Hope

 

They are a hopeful breed.

 

My grandfather quotes Pope’s ‘An Essay on Man’

As he tells me that “hope springs eternal”.

 

My mother points at a patch of crocus and bluebells in the Spring,

“A few months ago, this land was barren,

And now there is so much beauty.”

 

My father references his favourite Cohen song,

When he whispers to me, “There is a crack in everything.
That’s how the light gets in.”

 

My grandmother prays every night,

For the recovery of her brother.

She tells me that hope will conquer all.

 

My sister, a student of Dickinson,

Recites to me her words,

“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul…and never stops at all.”

 

My auntie puts me on her lap,

And tells me that hope will get us through.

 

And when I tell them that I do not know,

If I can believe in hope,

They send me to the priest.

 

My priest sits with me.

He prays with me,

And reads to me from Jeremiah,

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, and whose hope is the Lord.”

 

Yet, I still do not know,

If I can believe in this thing,

That they call hope.

familyhopehopelessno hope

◄ A Broken Mirror

God's Rays ►

Comments

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Shifa Maqba

Fri 10th Jul 2020 10:46

One of those poems that makes you pause and ponder deeply. Very evocative!

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Abdul Ahmad

Thu 9th Jul 2020 21:00

A family team effort producing a beautiful patchwork quilt filled full of hope.

Better than any eiderdown.

Enjoyed it.

Philipos

Thu 9th Jul 2020 20:18

Greetings Isobel - according to proverbs, it is human nature to find fresh cause for optimism - however if I were a submariner held fast on the ocean bed I would probably have cracked up long before the air supply gave out, as in the recent case of the Russian Sub, Kirsk.

Not that I could ever have had the nerve to go down in one myself - being rather fearful of them. I did manage a quick look round one once, many years ago in the port of Liverpool - finding it all rather too spooky for my liking.

Yours is a good read nevertheless. P

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