Like a crack of light in darkness

Hope reaches out to the hopeless

It can crush a mountain of doubts

And awaken the youngest of smiles

It lives in the eyes of the destitute

And dwells in the hearts of the childless

Its weak aroma can be perceived in times of war

Its feathery scratch felt by the separated

“When shall we be free?”

A cry of hope!

Even though we all know the truth

It still sounds so bitter and distant

And so we hold our peace

For even the newly born know that “hopelessness” is always louder than “hope” itself

By Sylvia Chika






© SylviaChika 2012


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