Hope

Hope is best when it feels like water,

Immense, holy, ineffable,

Patient enough to cleanse you,

Soothing enough to rest inside,

And let it caress the nooks of your body.

Hope is hands not your own

Steadily massaging that ache,

The one you’ve had since you were too small

Not yet worthy of pain,

Helpless and angry with your too tiny fingers.

An ache that moves across your lobes

Without origin or resolution.

Hope says —

Lay your mind down,

Have faith in movement,

Trust.

But Trust, like hope, like water

Is too hard to grasp.