Hope

Hope is a way of waiting...

For rain to fall from

Non-existent clouds,

On parched and dusty farm lands.

Hope is a way of praying...

When words come no more

And tears have run dry,

Leaving nothing else to do.

Hope is a way of living...

Through the present pain,

Towards future life;

A bountiful, fruitful joy.

Hope is a way of loving...

Through the driest times,

Towards a question mark;

Dark clouds on the horizon.

Hope is a way of waiting...

For a storm to burst

With thunder and win

And, through them, the cleansing rain.

Summer, 1988