hope is.

December 6, 2010
my life is boxed and cubed
cut into circles and packaged away
but hope flies high
piercing the sky
and it falls
crumpled like a fragile paper bag
but forever blue like you would imagine
and you hold it like a bird
gently in your hand
like the reins on a horse
cradle it
stroke its feathers
you have learned compassion
or maybe it has taught you
by and by it will burst
flinging it's notes high for the sky to catch
and strewn about
they can sow our wound

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