Sunday, March 1, 2009


Bursts out of every breath,
Crying into void-like echoes,
Reverberating in the caverns of my cranium,
Deafening my inner ear,
Precluding judgment and caution.

I have been living on Hope,
My only sustenance
In these rocky times.
But Hope itself is getting thin
And plays its game
Of hide and seek.

Now, its presence fills my heart.
Now, it teases and tantalizes.
Now, it is the whisper of a dream.
Can I still find you, Ariadne’s thread,
To guide me through the labyrinth
Of doubt and despair?

Hope, you are a will-o-the -wisp.
My most intimate friend,
Permeating my waking moments
And, like fire-flies,
Flickering before me in the dark,
Lighting my way.

Hope’s quiet certitude
Overrides the deafening
Clamor of the fear.
Hope, I know you’re there,
Rocking me in the lullaby of
All is well.

Prema Rose

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