puddleheart

Today while searching through old email archives I came across a pair of poems I wrote in 2005, one day apart. The second is apparently a glimpse of God’s healing touch at a pretty difficult time in my life as I struggled with my mama’s progressing illness. What I didn’t know was just how short our time together would be.

 

Hate

 

Hate is ugly as it comes for me
Hanging like moss from limbs over bus-stop shanties
Waving like a pointed finger in the face
Taunting like the enemy it is
And winning

And I wait for the bus, not even sure where I’m going
Or where I want to go
Staring into the distance not seeing
Not caring if the bus comes or it doesn’t
I may still be sitting here
When it’s gone

Feeble attempts they are that I make
Little efforts to push the feeling away
Knowing deep down that isn’t me
I love
But today I hate
And I hate that I do

I hear the bus and breathe a sigh of defeat
Cast my ocean-blues to the ground and shuffle my feet
Hoping I’m alone on the dusty bench
Not wanting to lead another down an empty road
Another bus will be along later
Maybe

_______________________________

Hope

 

Hope comes on a butterfly’s wings
Alights on my shoulder and flutters away the dust and tears
I swallow back the pain once more
Lower my eyes again to the dusty ground
This time I pray

I’d hoped to be alone on the bench
But a stranger appears who doesn’t mind that I wished her away
Her words lifted to heaven before mine
Her tears falling softly for a struggling girl on a bus bench
An unmet friend

I steal a glance toward her
Sad to have given her reason to cry
But her smile forms a bridge across the dust
And I wonder at the love that can reach out to a stranger
And offer hope

And the moss sways in the trees above our heads
Hate loses its grip and slowly dissipates
I feel its icy fingers loosening, loosening
There’s a rumble in the distance coming closer
Her bus and mine

 

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2 thoughts on “Hate to Hope in the Space of a Day

  1. We never quite know where those moments of hope are going to come from, do we? But, it is good when they do and we can grab onto them. If they give only an ounce of hope, that is better than staying in the land of no hope.

    Love you, Sis. I am glad that you found hope again. {{{Hugs}}}

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