Hope, lit in abstract is easily
Snuffed out by passionate loneliness.
Attempts to breathe, clotted by
veins scarred by sorrow.
Eyes, scaled by experience and
Closed in sleep against the cruelties
Of the world.
I’m not afraid to climb into the ditch with you,
I’ve dug this grave before.
Grave digger turned grave robber.
Joined, a band of brothers and sisters, saturated
In the oil of faith,
searching tombs of darkness for a pulse, because you matter
The torch of our souls leaning close to
living corpses already making beds of graves.
Relentless in calling Lazarus from the
tomb. It is not your time yet.
I am hope, concrete with dirty fingers.