Hope

Wind blowing...sky grey...
Last tiny leaf clings onto a slender twig...
As I hang onto my last slender shred of hope...
How tenacious that leaf...
How tenacious that hope...
Hair blowing...mind grey...
Last tiny shred of hope grips reality...
And strangles the silent cry rising from my breast...
There is that leaf...
There is that tree...
There is that hope...
There is that reality...
Like that leaf clings to that twig...
I cling to that hope...
That grips that reality...

© Skya Wode
04 December 1997