Last night’s dream seemed
As if that sneaking nightmare, despair;
Disparity, always teasing the unaware
Mind gone astray—Wandering off.
So today I took strands of despair
And braided them into hope-plaits;
Cut them off and then buried them.
My tears watered their graves.
Hope budded and blossomed
As petals of audacious faith glistened
In the sunshine of new dawns dawning.
Meadows of forget-me-nots bloomed;
And in fields of our-story, butterflies
Feasted on lying his-story as everywhere
New cocoons hung on the branches of time.