32. Hope
they don’t quite know what to say
to inspire me
they’ve told me what
a beautiful life this
is
sometimes I fail to see.
there are glimpses, I admit
it’s a slowly healing wound
excruciatingly slow
day by day by day
the world turned black and white
but one by one each little thing begins to brighten up
again.
I woke yesterday and the sky was almost blue
a pale green periwinkle color
today it’s full and vibrant
my favorite red umbrella had been
gray for quite some time
the other day it turned red again
flipped like a switch
made me smile
I put on a black dress to go to church
and when I left the service it was pink
my car’s blinding yellow returned at a stoplight
no one seemed to notice, it happened
in a flash
and it shocked me
I know that those colors have always been there
but my eyes turned gray
couldn’t see anymore
the beauty that seemed to abandon me
on the side of the street
on the scalding pavement, burning the soles
of my feet
crying “why did you leave?”
YOU turned my world gray and black
but the meaning of hope is finding the color again
of my own free will and my own brute strength
and watching the anger slither back down the drain
little moments convince me the world is still good
and this life, though maybe not beautiful
yet
is one worth living.
a boy I’d never seen carried my books for me
when I was about to buckle
under the weight
of the world.
an old woman in the drive thru
bought my coffee when I was scrambling
for quarters
that angsty musician in the coffee shop
sang the words that I desperately
needed to hear
I didn’t know that I felt them
‘til they were voiced and shoved
down my unprepared ears
even just a smile with the strange dog-walker
with the crooked glasses and the mom jeans
showed me that kindness is real and not everyone
wants to break me
it was one too many pebbles
on a shaky stack
came crumbling down on my uncovered head
they said it was a brain injury, but it went straight to my heart
now I see that I can rearrange
and realize that I am worth it.
it didn’t hit me like a car collision or make itself blaringly obvious
like a solar eclipse
it crept up on me like another new year’s day
or my sister turning thirteen
things I thought were so far away but are suddenly here
and it’s time
it’s time.
time to say “I forgive” and cut all the ties
all the strings that I wrapped and tangled around those words
and let them be what they are
a vessel of my letting go.
hope is a thing that can’t be forced
down my throat
can’t be yelled in my ear by
friends with the best of intentions
can’t be crammed into a day
or broken down into tiny jagged pieces to fit
in my counselor’s perfectly-proportional box
it must be discovered by a humble heart
that’s done fighting for the wrong side
and is ready to wage a war against the dark.