Hope Rises Above

The clouds do not weep.

Their sagging brows are not gray with remorse,

or cool with melancholy,

or heavy with hope harnessed too long.

 

Perhaps that’s why they float –

free from the seeming solid world below.

From worry or from woe.

 

Vapors rise.

Drawn by the dawn’s steamy sight –

the celestial smile above the dimmed cradle

from where we crawl.

 

From where the ground lays.

From where our bones lay.

And roses bloom.

 

But the clouds do not weep.

They do not tear for our flowers,

from once-soul bearing bones –

now flower food

of spring’s recommence.

 

A natural force,

in part driven by the seeming gloom above

where we now stand.

 

They do not weep for us

anymore or less than we weep for ourselves.

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7 thoughts on “Hope Rises Above

    • Thank you! It is beautiful personification, isn’t it? I was thinking of scenery that we represent with human emotions and clouds came to mind – their power to bring both relief and woe. It’s how we’re tied into the Earth.

    • Thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed. Which story did you read? I actually started as a prose author but have been focusing on poetry more recently. Ironically, my first book was a prose-poem novel. Go figure!

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