Arms Of Hope

Willowed, lost and lonely
grasping for fragments
of childhood within my despair.
A chill of cold and damp,
winters lasting legacy
covers the body in the mornings
with a long uncertainty.
Where are the arms of hope?

No ink in which to dip my pen
to scratch out lines on a blank page.
Charity visits too often
now I have nothing to give
only the diversities of nature,
the smattering of dying leaves
that touch the ground in fall.
Where are the arms of hope?

Lying in bed I am molested
by nightmares of the dark
where no quintessential light
burns to guide hope.
I lay with tormented eyes
wide open to the shuddered night.
Where is the salvation
found within the arms of hope?

28 August 2010

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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