I intend to release a new poetry collection sometime this year, so I thought I'd give you a preview of what's going to be in it. Enjoy!
My hope is not a thing with wings
It is brittle and crumbling
Shreds of something I scrounge together
On bleeding hands and knees
Hope is crushed in my mortar
Ground into a fine powder that chokes me
Making me gag and cough as I mix in
My will and my time and my drive
And grind and grind and grind
Until I have something akin to a paste
Something I can roll out and shape
Force to take form and coalesce
Then drive into the fires of action
Of my screaming and suffering and anger
I will be hopeful, I will, I will
Until it is first fired
Then I can glaze it in tears and sweat and blood
Color it with my colorful language
As I recover from the burns of retrieving it too soon
I can send it back into the flames
Where hope goes from a fragile thing
To a strong thing of beauty and use
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