May grace find me here,
in hopefully waters,
buzzing with the excitement of next-ness.
We often look to brilliancy as a sustainable life,
but I'll tell you that light is rare
so when it comes----squeeze it to death,
till the light seeps over in your hands
like shiny yellow blood, wetting your knuckles and the insides of your fingers.
put this light to your lips and sate the dark depths.
For hope is coming. Teaming out in the distance.
Hope is coming.
Lets the tears roll down your face,
track them to your jowls, to the side of your neck
where lovers kiss,
to the collar bone, that most kids have broken
to your breast plate and sternum, that guards whats most precious.
And let them stay there as a damp reminder that hope is coming
and it looks like light.
Hope looks like water and tears and light and color
and when you find it for yourself,
(because it will be different for all)
sink your nails into it
sink your face into it
sink your heart into it
hope is coming.
And it looks like this---
Drawing by Adam Peterson. Words by Jordan Shappell.
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