hope springs eternal, they say.

hope springs eternal, they say.
have you somehow found
the Fountain of Youth
and just not shared the coordinates
with me?
I could use a hope-spring
because it seems that all I have
is a well
and it has gone dry.
have hope, they say.
how exactly am I supposed
to have hope?
is it an emotion
that I can manufacture
like joy
plaster hope onto my face like a smile?
do I just need
to try a little harder
self-help myself a little more?
could you please
just hand me some hope
to put in my pocket
and carry with me every day?
I don’t understand how hope works, really
no more than I understand love
or faith
or trust
or beauty
or any one of those million intangibles
those words we toss around
til they seem to lose meaning
maybe I don’t know how
to have hope
because I don’t really know what
hope is.
belief in things unseen,
isn’t that the phrase?
or maybe it is the thing with feathers.
I’m not sure.
I think my mind has gotten cluttered
and I need to start over
start new
find and define for myself.
hope is believing that if
I just take the first step,
the next step will become clear.
hope is trusting that I get
one more breath,
and then another.
hope is foolish, stubborn,
an insistent, persistent clinging
to the promise
that one day,
it will all be okay.
hope springs eternal, they say.
I don’t know if I believe that,
but I chose to believe
that someday,
it will all be okay.
or at least,
some of it will be okay.
I guess that’s kind of the same thing.


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