Hope
It’s tight in here, where my breath is labored and shallow
I’m pounding my heels against a bloodied trap door
All the while, out in the open, holding fresh flowers
For all to see and admire, stopping to tell me
I hope you’re doing well, you look like you are
It’s so hot in here, where my head is under water
Running up hill, endlessly, even as I fall clumsily down
Yet I welcome everyone into my hot air balloon
Soaring over the city and saying breathlessly
How lovely it is for you, up here in the freedom and
fresh air
It’s crowded in here, where all my thoughts throw knives
So many brutal edges and conversations, I can’t get a word in
But still, I gather the gawkers and seekers into a circle
Passing the oils and sage around, each saying softly
Isn’t this peace delicious, better than romance and wine
It’s impossible in here, where opportunity seems dead
Doors welded shut by rust from decades of doubt
And yet, screaming, I cast out a spider’s line of silk
Barely daring to believe that out there, one day, it will be better
Better even than flowers and romance and peace
