Hope still walks beside me on the road
Her gentle company eases the miles
And lightens the load a little.
On days of unwashed clothes and unkempt hair
She sometimes seems a little unprepared,
Yet mismatched shoes can still skip
And callused hands can still warm to the touch
Of love’s tender potential.
Some days her mind seems elsewhere
But when our eyes meet,
She is quick to smile,
And through her windows
The light burns brightly
For anyone who cares to share.
Hope is never pretty
But always beautiful,
She is a silhouette in an open doorway,
A soft touch as sleep dissolves
A memory that lingers in the folds of your heart.
She is the exhale of a sigh,
The softening of shoulders
To imagined caress,
The trickle of water at the source
Of a mighty river.
Hope never looks in the mirror,
Indeed, she looks beyond,
For she holds her own reflection
In a place I have yet to find.
Sometimes weary,
She falls behind,
Engulfed in the shadows of the past;
Sits down to rest in the settling dust.
A time-worn traveller, she fades from my view
As I continue on unaware.
Somewhere in the chill
I miss her hand in mine
And sit down by the roadside to wait.
In the stillness,
The road continues to pass me by
And if I close my eyes I can be
Wherever I wish to go and whomever
I choose to be,
Yet somehow the one I open my eyes to
Is me.
In these fragile precious moments
When quiet enters me and wraps my soul
In the solace of silence
And the road has lost its urgency,
I look up to find her standing there.
We hug
Old friends,
The holding hands, continue on our way.
Some days Hope takes her own path,
But most days, she still walks beside me.
She lives in me
And I live in Hope…



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