hope works its way
across this tattered tapestry
as fine, golden threads
spun through night
small streaks of light
faint as peripheral doubt,
ghosts that catch the eye
slicing the void in two
to reveal bright visions
of a sun-swept coast
just achingly beyond
this somber tumult,
waiting to embrace us
if we would but reach.

look up!
the sky bleeds yearning
like tears from the eyes
of a newborn’s mum
seeking a first life-giving,
but neverending embrace
that gives warm respite
from the trauma
of having come to be.