Tuesday, May 19, 2020

Hope

This year might remain
a thorn in our flesh
in our memories a nightmare
that shook us up
in the middle of the night.

A circled year on the calendar
that put plans on hold
weddings, holidays, dates
every crumb of life that 
kept our plates full
we'll  treat with contempt
this year like a rodent that we are trying to
remove from our homes
a comma we are trying to erase
from the sentence of our lives  
that has split the meaning.

Yet in the midst of a lost poem
called life, I try to wake up to the angry alarm clock, eat the breakfast
without making complaints, 
as I struggle to find the lost rhythms  
hope is the name I think of
that inspires me to sing along
with a choir that is keeping
the music alive in a mass
that can only be seen, not tasted.  





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