What is hope?
An intangible thing that all humanity grasps for.
Sometimes I imagine I can feel it’s edges like a feather soft thing, just out of reach.
But is it really out of reach? Is hope something to be grasped?
Hope is experienced, not held. Hope is found but not possessed.
It lives in places where logic alone dares not live.
Perspective changes things. It doesn’t change truth, but can give us a wider view of what is true.
Toes can never me mountains, but they can show is a likened beauty, and defy the shoes they are so often crammed into, and hold up the weight of our lives, like the deepest roots of the earth.
As does every shoulder bent in strain, stooped in pain, and prostrate in prayer.
©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef
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