Hope is a Frayed Edge

Ideas That I Cannot Call a Poem & Other Thoughts (Definitely Not Poetry)

Hope has a way of turning its face to you just when you least expect it.

—Sara Groves “It Might Be Hope”

Hope bounces like a pinball,
knocking over carefully
kept bins loaded with questions
(How? When? What about...?) 

Hope pummels over plans,
a tidal wave filling your lungs 
with currents of fresh, wild, otherness. 
(I was organizing a safe, small world.) 

Hope clogs the system,  
helps you deconstruct 
all those constructed notions. 
(What do I know, anyway?) 

Hope is a frayed edge, 
tattered and torn, making 
undone all those places you marked 
'over' (I shall start writing in pencil & not Sharpie.)

Other Stuff, Born from Recent Experiences

• Waiting never ends, which works out, because Love never ends, either. (Is there a connection there I should paying attention to?)

• I nearly lost Wordle recently because the Southerner in me kept wanting “Memaw” to be it. Macaw, you little booger.

• Reconnecting with old friends is a special kind of joy.

• Tomato is a fruit. (It is a uniter, not a divider.)

• There is an instrument called a mandocello. It is of the mandolin family, but it is big, so it is to the mandolin what the cello is to the violin. *mind explodes*

• Breaking is my new favorite Olympic sport. (Well, right behind figure skating.)

• I am replacing ‘leaps of faith’ with ‘baby steps of barely believing’ in my vocabulary to have more integrity.

May Hope knock the wind out of you this week,

Becca