Hope is a powerful word
That is allusive as a butterfly
And few use the word correctly,
Hope for the best, we say
That everything will go my way or our way.
That seems so shallow
Wouldn’t it be better if we “hoped”
Could we accept the outcome of what faces us?
It is a word Medical Doctors don’t like to use
They don’t want to get anticipations up
Or expectations too high.
The doctors might get sued for a “promise” not kept.
Hope
Families gather around the world in turbulent times
Of sickness, of loss, destruction
Looking for some kind of comfort
Yet it often flitters away, elusive as the butterfly
Never fly in a straight line
Never going where it is expected to go
So, what is hope?
A thought, a feeling, and an exception?
It is fragile in all situations.
And can disappoint or elate.
Where does hope come from?
Within
Without
Both
Or is it a gift?
Does it mean I have no work to do?
Just sit back and wait?
Does it mean to try everything possible
And wait for the best?
Why is it some have it and
Others don’t
Are some just more realistic?
More rational?
Is it an awareness that some other force
Might act on our behalf
That is anything but rational?
Perhaps it is a belief.
That the outside presence will bring what is best
Even if it is not what we expect.
A belief in the continuance of time and space and life
That keeps us on our journey.
Those with illnesses,
Those with missing family members
Those wanting a change
All hold on to it if they can
With all their strength
Yet, it often slips through arms and hands
And floats in the wind.
Sometimes, all we can do
is hope
That it comes back
