There is a catch in my breath every time I read this.
It describes how hope feels these days...
dense and dark and sorrowful
and utterly beautiful.
"It lands in my body with all the fragile gravity
of mist suspended in light."
This description is so precise it steals my breath
and steels my resolve to cherish it
beyond every ounce of strength I possess.
Yes, hope is the thing I'll follow
in the darkest times, a living root I'll cling to
as it tenderly threads through the rich soil of my sorrows."
Oh my heart...a living root as it tenderly threads through
the rich soil of my sorrows.
Everything inside me sighs in recognition of this truth.
It touches the sorrows I hide from and lets them breathe.
It reminds me how this "living root" also threads tenderly
through the rich soil of my drudges and my delights...
If I concentrate, I can almost detect its slow, steady winding...
circling and spiraling...
grounding and centering me in the mist of hope.