At Least a Ray

Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.
     Vaclav Havel

What is this thing called hope?
 
We hear it all the time,
thrown around as if it is our
salvation.
Never give it up.
But it’s not that easy.
Some days,
well,
it’s not even a matter of giving it up.
Some days
it’s not even there
in the first place.
I can’t even begin to find it,
much less hold on to it.
Some days
the results are so discouraging,
the news so distressing,
that hope is the furthest thing
from my mind.
Not only from my mind,
but from my heart
and,
worse,
from my soul.
That’s when it gets hardest to
believe
that hope can ever exist,
can ever be found by me.
So tell me,
when my mind can’t grasp it,
my heart can’t feel it,
and
my soul can’t reveal it,
what am I supposed to do?
Hope is what is said I need
to make through the day,
the night,
the dark night of my soul
that descends upon me
and sometimes wants
to stay.
Can you tell me where to find
this hope?
Where it lives?
How it helps?
Why it is so important to have?
Will it save me?
Is it a cure?
Can it take my torment
away?
It’s a magical word,
hope.
With it comes promise.
With it comes life.
I long for that life
it promises,
that life
where no more
do I doubt
that a day will come
when hope,
at least a ray,
will carry me,
carry me,
to sweet relief,
will carry me
to sweet peace,
a place where I need
to be.

Photo by Wren Meinberg on Unsplash