June 5, 2012


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

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


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.

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