Hope

Never
in the story
I know best
and dread but believe in —
my own —
have I come back
from this far
along this trail
that’s run
through deep woods
full of storms and
filled with the running
leather lunged wolves
who harry me along
as if I were
their solitary prey,
but
I found myself lying on the floor tonight
and disbelieving, for once,
the most likely outcome
of that scenario;
instead
I heard the ocean
and saw the long horizon
and felt a hand reach for mine
and say
come, get up,
there are people here
who want to see you,
and the night was still
and though there was a moon
there was no howling to be heard,
only arms outstretched to me and
murmured, soft greetings.

Tags: poems, poetry, meditations