hope

Future Days

how much darker will the days grow,
when might we find the dawn
of a new beginning;
hope is a gossamer thread
and our hands are blunt instruments,
clinging in desperation,
we beg a sign,
for the light we see
is a confusion of potentialities,
and we hunger for substance -
it can't all come from within -
something to reward our faith,
that better days lie ahead

these words are nothing -
they live unseen -
these words are everything -
they are me -

spill the ink upon the page
covering its nakedness
with the blood of your dreams,

these words are a window -
they peer into my soul -

is their hope left there?

Dawn Reveals

sunlight bleeds dawn onto the black night sky,
its light revealing the depth of our wound;

for we are a damaged people
shrouded in the sadness
of our collective hatred
of those things we choose not to understand;

can we heal this open hurt
whose roots are sown so deep?

with the warmth of love
and the gentle patience of time
we have a sliver of hope;

we must cling to it,
nurture it,
help it to grow
that we might realize
a happier dawn