Hope surprises my inertia.
To dare of possibility,
knowing karma dictates.
Hope is blue~
not the turquoise blue of Arizona.
Blue like heron feathers.
Blue like 30 meters.
Hope can swim to me,
an urchin in need.
Hope wants you to know
what everything means.
If I am soft, would it
save me?

Sara Fielder © May 2020