I lost hope today
I sat with heavy eyes and cried
Tears streaming, like quicksilver confetti,
Disappointment embroidered its way through my veins,
Threading a clear-woven message
Of exhausted desperation.
In my hours of hopelessness,
I looked to my window and bowed my head in quiet surrender,
Untangling beads of sorrow in my heart
As the heavy necklace of my expectations
Unwound and fell on the floor.
Wings appeared, iridescent and whimsical,
A splash of innocence and cerulean blue.
Hope fluttered inside me like a hummingbird,
A fresh burst of juicy inspiration
A wild wish
A dandelion swaying in the breeze.
Hope is quiet, but not as subtle as we’d expect it to be,
Like cayenne and honey, spicy sweetness, shocking our tongues.
Hope is a warm sunbeam in the dead of winter,
Dripping with golden-streaked beauty,
Reminding us that our pain is a temporary guest
A visitor, staying for a day or two.
At any moment
Our suffering can be swept away with the breeze,
And make its way out to sea.
In the blink of an eye, frowns can become beaming smiles
Tears can transform into roaring laugher; sadness can mutate into inspiration.
And sure, those things will change, too.
Can we dance to the beat of life’s electric heartbeat—rather than against it?
Can we sway with our feelings and not get lost in them?
Can we ride the delicious, aching waves of emotion without drowning in seaweed?
Hope is beautiful, like gossamer lace, but she cascades, coming and going, too.
Let’s count on ourselves,
On the pounding steadiness of our heartbeat.
The steadfastness of our souls.
The presence intertwined in our every waking breath.
Let’s be our own anchors.
Let’s be our own whispers of quiet hope.
Author: Sarah Harvey
Editor: Catherine Monkman