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This Curious Thing Called Hope

by Val Lieske.

© December 2011

Hope is a curious thing

For many it is a thin string to which we cling

It is the cord to our dreams

The thread that is our seams

Our lifeline in our streams

Of trouble

When we stand in the rubble

And the debris

Of what was our life

Or what we thought it would be

We hoped for something better

Something with different weather

More sun, less rain

More joy, less pain

More peace, less blame

Hope is not for the faint of heart

Or for those who live based on the fact that they are smart

Hope is more like art

It does not make sense

And holds no pretense

But only asks you to believe

Even when you grieve

And to risk looking naïve

Some think we are being deceived

By fairytales and rabbit trails

That keep us from the cold hard facts

And distracts


From what is, with what could be

We see past the tangible, material

To grab hold of the ethereal

This thing called hope

That we cannot see and cannot touch

But we gladly call it our crutch

Because we need something this world cannot offer

Insurance, seat belts, and doctors

Are all fine

But I need something that is divine

Bigger than me and what I can muster



I need something more

At the core

I need a Savior

I know, it doesn’t make sense

But in my own defense

Everything else has let me down

Broke my heart

So I need a fresh start

I start with him alone

And will no longer postpone

This thing called hope

I will bring him my hurts and fears

My joy and tears

Because I am His child

When I finally believed that, He smiled

A child of God

How odd

That I would only now

Grab His hand

And stand

In the shadow of the great I AM

He patiently waited

While, on my own, I created

This whole other life

Full of anxiety and strife

Because I did not want to appear weak

But my courage, it leaked

Until I was empty and cold

And He leaned down and asked gently, if he could hold

My hand

And although that was not in my plan

I decided to stand

And offer him my heart as well

He gladly excepted and said He’d love to dwell

In the depths of me

If I’d agree

And he’d offer me hope

Beyond reason

In every season

Including the darkness of loss

And then slid His hand across

The universe and found mine

For Legs


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