Hope is an intuitive sense that some other way of being
might be possible,
that different futures might exist.
~Suzanne Miller at Wayfaring
I spent half my life climbing the hill of hope,
dreaming dreams I insisted would come true.
I didn't give up until they did,
for I believed.
dreaming dreams I insisted would come true.
I didn't give up until they did,
for I believed.
That hill of hope is steeper now, more forbidding,
and time is short to make it to the top.
I have to stop to rest
every few feet.
I have to stop to rest
every few feet.
It is hard to hope when whole forests are burning,
when the wild ones are dying, when seaside towns
are swept into the sea.
I seem to have traded my former
high-hearted optimism
high-hearted optimism
for all that remains: gratitude for the beauty
of Mother Earth,
of Mother Earth,
who keeps giving, like every good mother,
no matter how badly we have treated her.
If hope is a hill, and I am so weary,
so tired of climbing, let me sit on this bench
halfway up. Climb for me, and send word back.
halfway up. Climb for me, and send word back.
Write me a poem full of hope
that I can believe in.
that I can believe in.
Tell me the view from the top.
What do you see?
for Susan's prompt at What's Going On? on Wednesday: The Hill of Hope.
Wow! Love. "Climb for me, and send word back." As if a dove on Noah's Ark, a strong allusion. I know that lifelong hill of hope and the difficulty lately. This poem is so honest it brings tears to my eyes.
ReplyDeletePerhaps the hill of hope is still climbable. You can't give up. Yes, take time to rest, but DO keep climbing even if slowly.
ReplyDeleteI Love the restful words at the end. It's not weariness, it's contentment and may be peace with oneself. So beautifully written, Sherry.
ReplyDeleteClimb for me, and send word back.
ReplyDeleteWrite me a poem full of hope
that I can believe in... this is beautiful... such a heart wrenching poem....
What a climb, Sherry, but a worthwhile one! Everything seems steeper now, if you’re like me, but I’m still giving it a go, albeit slower and with less abandon. These lines stood out for me:
ReplyDelete‘It is hard to hope when whole forests are burning,
when the wild ones are dying, when seaside towns
are swept into the sea.’
and
‘If hope is a hill, and I am so weary,
so tired of climbing, let me sit on this bench
halfway up. Climb for me, and send word back.’
I trust that we have all written poems full of hope today.
Don't stop climbing!! Yes, it is uphill all the way, but still hope is eternal. And one day, we just might make it. We will never give up. No matter, how bad it seems, it is what we have sewn. Now we have to reap. It has our name all over it. Wonderful poem!!
ReplyDeleteI am not anonymous/ annell
ReplyDeleteI love the perspective here, that climbing the mountain is getting harder and to let you know what the top looks like. You'll see it for yourself as someone is bound to take you up there with them. Thanks, Mosk
ReplyDeleteI absolutely love, love this Sherry! Sigh .. yes let us write poems full of hope for the future and manifest them to be true ❤️❤️❤️
ReplyDeleteOh my goodness... I was writing and realized I'm echoing Sanaa I absolutely love, love, love this Sherry - the feeling is resonant the hope exquisite.
ReplyDelete