Hope for a Day

Sometimes
a bitter wind blows in.

Then the chill
touches to the bone.

Mind-numbing atrophy of mood
succumbs to a sense of
overwhelming
ill.

On the threshold of depression
lies the juncture
of the journey
leading many ways to
oblivion
or
redemption.

You grope in the darkness
for the light at the surface,

weighed down
in soggy surliness
and wanton worry,

wanting to give up --
to rest,
to stop the battle.

But there’s a spark
of
surviving spunk
still left.

It reaches for the hope,
a rope
to pull you out.

If it’s there,
you survive
another day.

Pray
that it’s there.

HOPE!

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