Hope is a long-legged word

Poem 2 of 30 Days of Poetry

Mural at Port of Costa Maya by SENKOE

Hope is a long-legged word
stretching out her limbs into infinity.
Who knows her embrace better than
the artist pushing paint into concrete
the writer crushing ink into page
the mother worrying into a broken night
the sailor leaning into the next wave?

Who has hope on a Thursday morning,
when it's time to tie one's shoes 
when it's time to log one's minutes?
Hope is a soft body to come home to,
to rely on, she who waits with
plate warming, drink chilled,
and a reminder to set it all down
and rest.

Hope lives in the shadows of love, 
picking up the debris, sweeping up
the worry. What doorbell isn't rung
by hope, stopping by with 
pull-apart rolls and an hour of 
meandering conversation
standing in the foyer? 

Who hasn't pounded a fist
though, 
imagination certain:
SHE DIED, she left me,
pointing LOOK
all the bodies 
WHY 
but 

oh that dream returns
soaring over canyon, 
the heart bursting,
soul burbling with sweetness.
Skin rises to the 
fair wind entering the screen.
Here she is
long limbs
holding you,
holding you up,
as always, again.

---

Today is Day 2 of my Autumn 2024, 30 Days of Poetry. Today’s word “hope'“ comes from my longtime friend Brandee, an artist and all around awesome human. Brandee, I hope AZ cools down very soon.

Today’s artwork was seen in Costa Maya this past February, a beautiful mural by Mexican artist Senkoe of one of the world’s greatest holders of hope, Frida Kahlo.

Comments are warmly welcomed. Thanks you. Thanks for stopping by.

— Elizabeth aka “zed”