It springs eternal-
is that thing with feathers,
exists where there is life...
It is what sustains us-
after the verdict, the diagnosis...
( though these may be grim.)
It has propelled the immigrant and refugee
into the unknown
and it lives in the prayers of the abused
anchoring them to stay-
to endure, to hold on, just a little longer.
It is scratched on a cell wall,
is an imaginary flight of fancy
nourishing the condemned.

It is part of a Biblical trio-
joined with faith and love...
It can be a woman's name-
pronounced " Hope" or " Esperanza."
And though it is precious,
hope is not invincible-
it can be exhausted, destroyed
and when it dies, joy does too,
as does purpose,
and What?
What happens then?

This poem is about: 
Our world


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