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

Belief,

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

To me.

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.