Poetry
Hope
by dbdevilliers
But what’s the problem?
The sun shines
birds sing
the trees are green and
they sway in the breeze
and I’m not quite dead yet.
It’s tough to see it all, of course
through the smudged and
cracked lens of my mind’s eye
but maybe if I get the focus just right
I might catch a glimpse of it
and I might know
and I might understand.
I might.
Maybe I’ll find the strength
to get out of bed
sometimes.
Maybe I’ll get a job
and maybe this time
I’ll keep that job
for longer than a month or two.
Maybe this time is more
than a tally-mark etched
into a concrete wall.
Maybe this time
is the time when
I break down the concrete wall
and my registry of failure crumbles
along with it
and I run so far away
so, so far away
from here.
Maybe.
I have to hope
or I’ll never leave.
So, then
I’ll hope.
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