Yet another poem about hope, in awe its fragile and enduring nature.
I’m Mortal Hope
Is it passable
To murder hope
What kind
Of mettle
Might it take
Gold
Silver
Or mirror bronze
As hope springs fourth
Eternally
Its resurrection soully possible
By others’ grace
Sow spare
Death’s victory
So commodious such grave berth
And still
Moving
Impregnable
As love ceded
On earth as it is
Each and every sun rise
As mourning transforms to light
And grays supplanted too bright
Replete the sounding joy
At the sight
Of awe that is wholly
And reconcile Abel
As much as wee Cain
And sow much more
