Hope

Your parents lit you with a match,

One wick, one candle,

Flame to catch,

And though you didn't know it yet,

Joy sparked before the sun would set.

They guided you through darkness bleak,

Shielded you when flame was weak,

When wind brought flickers to your glow,

Never did your breathing slow,

For hands burned and blocked you from the storm,

And faces left cold to keep you warm.

You had no voice in early days,

Only blacks and whites but never grays.

Now you see the shadows dance,

Independence, take your chance.

No hands lay now to shield you,

No darkness now will yield to you,

Except this small, yellow orb of light,

Held to the radius of your sight.

But winds they come to put you out,

You struggle, flicker, pray and doubt.

Your legs are melted, waning wax,

The cracked stand you inhabit,

You fill in the cracks.

You want to believe,

But your shaking knees,

Give way to your heat,

Your wavering heartbeat.

You never knew the source of your pain,

You only knew the darkness, the shame,

To stand alone and play this game,

Your struggles were never a claim to fame,

Rather a cold and heavy chain,

Binding your heart, stifling your flame,

Your love, your light, your troubles lain,

Upon this cold and waxy hearth,

Stand to know that now it's free,

No longer a slave to misery.

For warmth was not the hands that held you,

But rather the wick that caught the spark,

And kept your alive, when all was dark,

The hope comes not from hands that hold,

Rather the strength of will so bold.

Hope was not the love of your kin,

Hope was the fire that was struck within.