Today’s word is Hope. I come back to these words of hope I wrote this summer and remember it is always mine for the taking.
Here’s to you, pulling me through the dark night and out into the dawn.
I am never forgotten with your hand, which feels small, like my son’s warm palm,
Reaching with eagerness and yearning.
Hope, you hold fast to me even when I am walking on, past you.
I exercise my right to be independent and confident
And I walk often, and fast in my black Sketchers, and I am brazenly ALONE.
There you are climbing the tall spruce, dripping with sap and browning needles, all because you want to see me, to call out to me
You tell me hope is holding on. It is playing and singing and dancing together.
You want to show me treasures you find, a pine cone, a mushroom flat and round like a cupcake, rising up through the grass to surprise us.
Hope, you see the best in me, and you ask the best of me
Even in my walking and striving and despairing.
You hold my fingertips tight with a tiny fist.
Hope. Ever present,
This is Day 28 of 31 Days of Poetry.