Hope whispered
despite the deafening roar of opinion,
the throbbing noise of discontent
and the piercing but silent screams of despair.
Hope danced excitedly
as she took her first halting steps,
crutches cast aside
as she wobbled her way forward.
Hope smiled
as she bravely stepped onto the bus
and waved goodbye to the confines of opinion and disregard
and straightened her shoulders.
Hope tiptoed round the edges
of fragile possibility
Her steamy breath as visible
as the deep cracks in the ice,
Her weight oh-so-carefully balanced as one foot ventured slowly out.
Hope dreamed of a better tomorrow
as she signed the form
bought the books
and imagined herself teaching
the children.
Hope nearly passed out
as the medic struggled to control the bleed
and her pulse fluttered
and the blood spurted.
Hope breathed again as she sat up
pale and drawn
and held the child
that no one but her wanted
and she crooned her first mother’s song.
Hope slipped quietly away
as the excitement of healing, love and manifestation
dominated the room, the space, the world.
No one noticed she had gone and it mattered not,
for Her work was done.
An original poem by Marike van Breugel, June 2019
This post and poem were written as part of 
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