There is
no hope without the help of grief.
Hope is kindled from a bed of ashes,
A history of holocausts and lashes,
Needing anguish to persuade belief;
Kindled only by a desperation
Strong enough to dry a pelting rain,
Grace that is the apogee of pain,
Intending more than personal salvation.
Vested in each sorrow is a dream,
Innocence surrounded by despair;
Nor are we grateful just for what is there,
Giving thanks for what we would
redeem.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.