Sep 2015

Today the last drops of Hope
Disappeared down the drain.
A slow circular dance without even
A goodbye.
It had been her companion for so many months
Years even.
It nurtured her and she prayed
That her trust would not be in vain.
This pain is not new--just sharper--
and no longer tempered by Hope.

She has built a wall
That can’t be scaled.
Isolation doesn’t lessen the agony
Physical comfort is no cure.
Heartache is like the seasons
It dissolves according to its own rhythm;
A schedule that laughs at our
Attempts to start summer in May.
Love that won’t be returned
Leaves us bobbing endlessly
On the unforgiving sea.
The heart listening devoutly
For those faint murmurs
Which keep it beating.

She waited many seasons for him
Colored leaves to be buried in snow
Then daffodils bringing hope
But falling soon in the heat of summer,
And then lonely winds of November.
How many springs would be enough
Until she knew her love would
Never bloom?

Today is the first day without hope
Waiting no more.
Feeling naked, bruised
But unshackled by a dream,
A nightmare?
Jericho will blow his horn
The wall will come tumbling down,
Maybe not crashing, but brick by brick
Stone by stone.
Will she love again?

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