女儿的诗 (7) Hope

Hope is a ratty, worn blanket to wrap yourself in
So you can stand the cold.
It is a thin barrier to ward off despair.
Hope is the golden hue of a sun
Peeking out from behind an ominous storm cloud
Sending glimmers of rainbows over the world.

Hope is a trodden-down woman
Who picks herself up every time.
And still speaks to me of paradise, of happiness, of joy
While I watch her eyes sparkle and her mouth turn up.

Hope can be a device to torture yourself and prolong the pain.
So that every time you go numb,
It brings you back, just in time
To have it start all over again.

It is hugging your teddy bear when you know that it can't help you.
It is a flower in the desert that whispers that anything is possible.
Hope is more terrible than any evil
And more wonderful than anything on earth.