Surrender hope . . .
Breathe in gratitude . . .
Would just be words . . . . . . .
Had my heart not been rended,
My earth not been moved
A hundred foot present
Cleaving an opening so vast,
A chasm so wide,
A rip in my fabric so complete
As to offer no hope of repair,
Only abundant, drowning, life-giving
Water, muddy in its undulating.
Surrender hope . . .
Breathe in gratitude . . .
Would just be words . . . . . . .
Had my lonely soul not wended,
My emotions not swept
Jet-propelled through matter,
A shock wave so strong,
An ebb in my tide so high
A swollen devastation so profound
As to offer no hope of relief,
Only expansive, poisoning, life-taking
Chaos teeming in its decomposing.
Surrender hope . . .
Breathe in gratitude . . .
Would just be words . . . . . . .
Kathryn Neale © 2005
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