I bear hope
in a heart lacerated
by punishing whips of grief and bereavement.
And like water
from a finger-woven basket,
it spills through the cracks
mudding the earth
beneath overworked feet,
slowing my stumble
towards that place of rest
I seek
but cannot see.
Oct 26, 2025
Oct 26, 2025 at 4:32 PM UTC
I bear hope
in a heart lacerated
by punishing whips of grief and bereavement.
And like water
from a finger-woven basket,
it spills through the cracks
mudding the earth
beneath overworked feet,
slowing my stumble
towards that place of rest
I seek
but cannot see.
