It is the thing that causes a mother to wrap around her child in the coldest and most desolate of places,
Fingers tight and gripping, back hunched - shielding.
It is the thing that causes a drowning man to push just a little longer,
To grab just one more breath before he slips below the rolling waves once more.
It is the thing that makes a lost pup whimper, whine, and cry,
Eyes shut too tight to be able to see its mother.

It can be so fleetingly strong, burned up in a last ditch effort with fingertips scraping for a hold -
But it never quite leaves.
Just like plants in a forest burned in a wild fire, it bubbles under the skin, rests in the heart.
It blooms like fire ephemerals with a new breath, a new day.
It can provide enough push, enough energy to keep those last few steps,
To cross the distance to the finish... or to the start.

It is hope.
It shines like a lighthouse - provides enough direction to find a way to shore.
It shows in the eyes each and every time they look to the horizon - dreaming of far off places.
In a small smile it shows itself, grabbing hesitantly for the happiness just within reach.
Like Kintsugi brings new life to broken pottery, it can repair even the destroyed.
It is a bird with a healing wing who watches the sky each and every day, patient.

One more minute.
One more hour.
One more day.
One more week.
One more month.
One more year.

The hope will linger, even when the throat is tight and tears cause eyes to sting.
It may hide for a while, but it is never gone.
There is something inherently human about it - always fighting, always pushing for one more moment -
One more chance to be heard, to be felt, to be known -
Whether it is small or large, quiet or loud, it is there.
Hope waits, hope grows.