For the Hopeless
I once heard someone say that hope was just despair turned inside-out.
And another said that until you don't worry about hope you're not really free.
And one other who said hope is a fantasy that disappoints.
I'm not sure about those.
I just know what happens when people give up.
And it's not good.
I've seen people curl up in a tight ball in the corner.
At times you see people walking toward you on the sidewalk
but they're not really there.
They are back where they were once alive.
None of that is good.
So I'm still voting for hope and I don't mean some fake little daydream.
Not wishful thinking or some hyped up optimism.
I mean the hidden power that bubbles up somewhere down in the basement.
That won't give up
for the sake of beauty or love or purpose or whatever.
You can call that holy and spiritual
or just as human as human can be.
It doesn't matter, really.
But for God's sake go camp out there
and warm your hands by that fire.
And if there is no fire than find somebody else's to borrow
until your kindling's dry.
If you don't you're going to freeze to death.
What a waste when that happens
and you and I both know it does.
Blow on the coals sleeping under that grey, flakey ash.
You might be surprised what glows back.
