Hope

It was difficult to face today knowing what someone had gone through yesterday or, perhaps, the day before that; it seems strange that one could be the image of joy and positivity one day and turn out to be so deeply and infinitely sad the next minute. So sad in fact that reaching out becomes pointless.

I just keep remembering these Walt Whitman lines from Dead Poets Society…”What good amid these, o me, o life? That you are here, that life exists and identity. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse.” No matter how bad it may seem, life cannot be pointless. Let’s remember that even at the bottom of Pandora’s box was hope. There’s hope. Please remember that there is hope.

let not these vehement clouds pull you down,
or saturate with melancholy rains.
dry your eyes instead and see beyond the curtains;
there is majesty and grace, the beaming structure
of hope projecting, persisting through noise
and technology– it is a gentle hand reaching,
whose touch calms, awaits your eyes and faith
to trust that even the darkest night
finds its balance in light

© mr gahon 8/12/14

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