Hope is a Flower
 
She used to tap her feet
to the sound of Jazz,
but she lost her zeal 
beneath the weight of stones
tossed pell-mell in her direction
until the pile resembled 
a monolith of great proportion
that chipped away 
at her fortitude. 

Searching the sky 
for any recollections of lost mirth, 
she was blinded as the soft azure 
was sliced from end to end 
with a dagger wielded by a bitter tongue,
left to bleed in shades of crimson rain
and trickle with a salty sting
over open wounds.

From drought to monsoon
and back again without warning;
the sands of her soul
were all but washed away,
the dried up river bed of her heart 
almost withered from thirst,
until a single rain drop shed
by a single cloud
allowed a single blade of grass
to grow.

And hope 
is a fragile flower,
yet it grows in the 
desert.


january 2006
Janet Reid



Awarded the *Milky Way Award* by 
SoulStarz Galaxy