Hope

You look in the mirror

You see pain

Locked in your heart

Is immense disdain

Will you be alive?

Will you smile again?

But when I see you

Hear your story

The hell you have been through

in all its glory

You are lucky to be alive

Others may say

Lucky to be breathing

To live another day

But the memory must be burdensome

To remember what has been

Swept under the rug

Unseen, Forgotten

Something heavy to lug

But even under all that stress

You kept that one neccessary object

Hope

When you were in the dark

Hope lit the shadows

When you were silent

Unable to move

Hope was there

Like the kindered ashes

from a wood burning stove 

Even in darkness and light

Sickness and fight

You never lost sight

Of what is always lost in the night

Hope. 

This poem, entitled "Hope" by its author, Hope Babbitt, makes such good use of rhyme and rhythm.  I find that the short lines and rhyme draw me into the poem as if it were a short story.  The lines I keep going back to are these:  "To remember what has been/Swept under the rug/Unseen, Forgotten/Something heavy to lug."  How true that memories can be burdensome when they are swept under the rug; bringing them to light, through discussion or writing, can help lift that burden.

Many thanks to Hope, a 14-year-old student at Fairport Harding Middle School in Fairport Harbor, Ohio, for her poem.