The Wings of Hope

Hope, it swoops down to the rough surface,
          fluttering its wings of joy into the darkened cell.
Hope, it illuminates an existence,
          creating a fresh future.
Before, I merely existed, passing one colorless day to
           another, waiting for the monotonous clouds to pass. I did not live. Before, I simply inhaled, allowing air to pass chapped lips.
I did not taste the sweetness of life,
            nor smell the muskiness of the land.        I did not breathe. Before, I treaded from one place to another,
          one tired foot before the other, never looking to the sun.

Joy and hope, you brought both,
            freeing me from its bonds of obligations.
You shone into my cage and transformed this dingy
           window into a stain-glass beauty. Hope and joy-- you reflected these rays of light into this glass, capturing my true light that was never realized. Back Bea's Poetry page CENTER> Back Bea's Den