Hope
encontrar mi
Hope is the thing with petals
smiling towards the sun.
A yellow beam of light
streaming across a dark room.
Hope is a rose with no petals
bursting into full bloom.
Hope is what we wish for;
a paintbrush poised over pristine paper,
rainbow palette in hand.
Hope is a rope we cling to
when the ground gives way
beneath our feet.
Hope is waking up to see
morning's hazy first light;
the new dawn unfolding.
Hope is joy and dreams;
what just could be;
shafts of sun peeking through a cloudy day.
Hope is taking baby steps
to reach the summit,
knowing you can survive
anything and everything.
Hope is embracing life,
believing in the wonder
when there's nothing left.
Hope is what we are grateful for:
a caring voice on the phone,
a letter from a friend,
a family to love,
a walk hand in hand with your lover.
Hope is a tiny shard of light
escaping a crack beneath the door;
a willingness to cross a threshold to worlds unknown,
open to endless possibilities.
Our thanks and appreciation to our Hope is... poets who gave us permission to use their names and credit their contribution to this collaborative writing project:
- Linda G. Camarda
- Me'Shech Parker
- Janet
- Ramona Davis
- Nessa
- Mainini Liebenberg
- Kathy Austin
- Lynda Urban
- Anamika Basu
- Dan Zeorlin
- Sherry Reiter
- Barbara Poppalardo
- Kelly King
- Kathy King
- Shannon Kresge
- Kathy Seaman
- Denise Burnett
- Lydia Sloan Gibson
- Danielle Thierry
Once all the Hope is... submissions were received, Alysa Cummings shared them with her breast cancer survivors poetry therapy group, Pink Ribbon Poetry, who reviewed all of them and worked feverishly as a team to create the finished poem you see here.
Curación Citable - Cita del día
Our bodies are our gardens — our wills are our gardeners.