HOPE

Something’s broken 

just a token

Left behind 

for me to find

Which shows my weakness

At my peakness

I need help from none. 

Now I’m done

Pretending otherwise, never claim the prize

Without a broken spirit- contrite at least

The dough is spoiled by a little yeast

That being my pride and self-reliance

Tired of thinking I’m a giant

But the letting go of that great sin

Has led me to the fix I’m in

Very anxious, tired and fearful

Been undone and slightly tearful

Without my shield, my pretense

Unable to mount my normal defense. 

Naked and bare, I shiver in fear

Waiting in vain for my Hope to appear.

And somehow, in Its loving wisdom

Hope sees fit to withhold some

Of Its presence and provision

Or could it just be my tunnel vision

That cannot see, past my own pain

My Hope, there waiting, to wash my stain?