Living Tree Poetry

Hope is made for such a day as this.

It is not made for when all
is sweet and light.
Although the memory of the good
can be a fueler of the flame.

Because hope was made for when the darkness
is most apparent.
Hope was made for when the sky has changed
to black.

Hope was made for those who cannot wake
for crying.
And for those who have lost their balance
underfoot.

Hope is made for those whose normal
turns to ashes,
becomes something unrecognisable
in the hand.

Yes, hope is not made for the day of goodness.

Its isn’t made for when our many blessings
cannot be counted,
gifts showered as blossoms
in the wind.

Hope is made for when the world has been shocked
to silence,
except for the ‘O’ of disbelief
and mouthing of a prayer.

Hope is made for the day that tries our understanding.

The day the lantern is too faint
a light to follow,
the roadway a shadow of premonition,
silhouettes emerging from the dark.

Yes, hope is made for when hope is all
that is left to us.
Survival needs the promise of life
to carry on.

So that hope is made for when
the future takes on a shape undefined.
When the human spirit can dream yet
of improbable things,

and make them possible
by harnessing the light,
that creative, innovative,
ever burning spark.

And the love,
and dogged commitment to the good,
of which we all, when all is done and said,
are made.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
January 2020