Awakening Hope
Another impoverished evening
draped so strangely harsh, the moon weeps
for one more burning a soul must retain....
And she clings among lost stars
with frozen heartbeat thawing minutes
weighed on jagged sounds of owl's play.
Yet, an intercepted light begins to kindle
as she gazes at an old man by a lamp post,
seemingly collecting crumbs of reminiscences--
The tick of hours mirroring her own disquiet
while couples pause to catch a flurry of mist:
She quivers, turns away from the glass pane
listening to the teapot ... her meditative chant for now--
Till a discovery of self-awakening lifts gently
Where a tiny place in her bosom invites calmness
yet to be born ...
through growing roots of spirit- fire.
First Prize Premier
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