VOLUME III: Scene II

For When Hope Feels One Stop Away

My fingers curl,
old infant habit,
clasping the armchair
In case I fall.
Sweat beads
trickle over,
birthing estuaries
between broken floorboards.

Stepping forward,
quick overtaking,
my heart has leapt
before it’s walked.
The sun is lifting,
the wind is heaving,
the storm is leaving,
more room to fall-
into beds of colour,
toasted champagne summers,
notes of hope
slipped beneath shut doors.

A croak of velvet,
the sighs I stomach,
once felt idiotic-
Now make me laugh.
Distant whispers from the past,
Cling to film, never built to last.

WRITER’S NOTE

Hello everyone,

I’m back n’ better than ever.

If you weren’t aware, the past two weeks have been something of a break for me. I’ve spent them interviewing for jobs, somehow managing to get both heatstroke and food poisoning (a story for another day), and navigating a few challenges along the way.

Now, though, I’ve finally made it to the other side.

I feel rejuvenated. I feel refreshed. And, perhaps most importantly, I feel like hope has finally found my address...

Which led me to write today’s poem.

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CREDIT

Image: J. M. W. Turner, Sun Rising through Vapour: Fishermen cleaning and selling Fish, before 1807. Courtesy of the National Gallery.

The National Gallery