And that's why we speak of hope like a spark.
It ignites.
It begins.
It can, at times, be so visibly different from its environment that the contrast--which may one day be quite illuminating--is in the moment glaringly offensive.
Hope isn't the butter on your popcorn when you sit down to watch a movie about the good ol' days.
Hope isn't the cool glass of lemonade you sip, sweet and crisp, at the end of a long, hard day.
Nah, hope...
if it comes in any liquid form besides an infinitely corrosive and foul-smelling acid...
if it's any sort of refreshingly cold water...
it's the kind they chuck at runners as they pass.
if it's water at all...
maybe it's the violent rushing stream from the hose...
pushing you down
and back
and letting you know that you got someone up there angry enough to slip up
because hope is the spark
and Eden is burning.
No comments:
Post a Comment