Just Poems

Hope is her name, and until the end of our time may she never change.

There is not much to say about a girl that doesn't speak. Unless you know her you probably have nothing more to say than her name. I'm a part of the few that know her and know her well and have chosen to stay. The cold that entraps her is hard for many to be near. On the outside besides the frozen chill of her quiet demeanor, she shines like the sun at dusk. One last attempt to keep the world warm. I know with each spark she tries to recapture her fullness, in the dawn before, but the night eats her whole. Taking all the living light. At least that is what it normally does, and I know that she believes with all her heart that it has.. but with each present moment when it least expected a spark of light comes from her.. there is no sun within her. There is no created light that can shine... and still she persists. In the night the beach and its waves call to her. Crashing and groaning with anger. It called her to present her best of which she has none. Still she gives, and gives, and gives. Somehow her lackluster gifts are enough. The Ocean continues to ask and she keeps giving, saying it's the least she can do. For the call is heard by many but the action can only be held by a few, before the waves need them no more.

She clings to the dawn awaiting its calm and quiet return... Waiting for the light to shine on her face again and call her to rise. As much as she tries to hide it, the Moon and the Waves all feel her gaze is somewhere else.They believe she's waiting in vain. Waiting in anger. Waiting in spite of all the praise they give her. Waiting in and out for a change that will never come. However in the mist of the dark a cluster of true light all understand the depth of her blurry gaze. The stars. Heard her call to the sun to return. They wonder if they block the way for the noise to be heard. They hide themselves for her. Not knowing if they stay put she wouldn't need to ponder if the sun was near. She calls at the edge of the sea. In the mist of the still waters. She calls until she is taken over by sleep. When the tide laps at her drawing her in they fall to meet her in the sea foam. Holding her in the weight of her tears. They hold her; cling to her in the blind of waiting. They lament her pain because they know the sun, for He is the reason that they shine. Something that the moon forgets. Something the tide doesn't understand since it has never known something of pure light. Dreaming her dream. Knowing their power will fade with the suns coming. In spite of this they hold her. Dreaming her dream.