Hope

after Emily Brontë & Emily Dickinson

 

Hope makes herself comfortable in the dark.

           the moon has run away

Even if she looked up, she would not see

the sky but for the hairline crack

in the lid of the jar.

Her wings no longer flutter;

they collect dust like swollen sapphires

found glistening in riverbank silt.

           she collects and cherishes loss

 

Hope listens to the misery outside 

           of her

The shrill call of all gone wrong,

the Earth turned sideways

by thunderbolt bearing hands.

Hope makes herself comfortable in the silence.

Her singing voice nothing but space in an echo,

drowned by the incessant buzzing

and beating of loosed wings;

           evil breathing whispers 

           upon the wind.

 


 

Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2020

My poetry collections: 

Flowers on the Wall UK

Flowers on the Wall US

Between the Trees UK

Between the Trees US

https://linktr.ee/KristianaReed

One thought on “Hope

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s