Hope is
Two hands fisted,
Held before you side by side.
One caging in a wasp,
The other clasping
Butterflies.
Touch one too bold,
Provoke a sting,
Clutch the other,
You will crush,
Its wings. Hope is holding,
Wishing with an ache,
The patient balance
Of two possible, opposing ways.
It’s to endure,
The weave of pain,
With grace,
The tension of a maybe grief,
Against a fragile, fluttering,
Faith. Sarah Clarkson Two Hands