It’s enough, a place to begin
to wait for a single drop or bead of rain
to fall on the hole you’ve climbed in.
A single drop that waters the single word
that strikes the chord that plays just right,
that grows into a bud, a tiny shoot, a spark of hope.
If you can wait long enough.
A day will do, then becomes two and three,
a week, a month, a year of unexpected alteration,
offerings falling from ominous clouds
straight into your heart.
And what went down, now goes up—
it’s the natural law of things.
The blackness of pain, as you will learn,
drop by drop from day to day,
will serve to increase your capacity for joy,
stretch your boundaries,
which can often hurt as you know,
then break the cords that hold too tight
your beautiful and sacred life,
if you can wait
just a day or more.
If you give yourself permission to fall,
say it’s okay to be held while you go down,
go easy on yourself,
there will be stronger arms than yours right now
to catch you while you fall.
there will be that day,
though I can’t say exactly when,
you will rise and rise from your black loamy bed
born in sorrow and blood
and know you were glad you stayed
and waited for rain.
© 2016 Shoshana Wolfington
April 24, 2017 at 1:21 pm
April 24, 2017 at 2:14 pm
May 16, 2016 at 10:24 pm
“Hope” is a huge thing…. Your poem reinforces me, heart and soul! It is wonderful!
May 16, 2016 at 11:03 pm
Thank you, Candy! You have always been my biggest cheerleader!! And now I am happy that I could be yours–although you’ve often told me that, too, over the years! Love you, dear friend!
May 16, 2016 at 5:31 pm
May 16, 2016 at 5:56 pm
I can always count on you, April! Thanks! Love you!