H-O-P-E.
You can’t touch hope.
You can touch the product of it.
Or what symbolizes hope for you.
Perhaps what or who reminds you that hope lives,
H-O-P-E itself is not a tangible object.

H-O-P-E.
You can’t purchase hope.
You can buy the written word.
Or tattoo it on your forehead,
Or buy relief from situations that drain hope from you.
H-O-P-E itself though, cannot be purchased.

H-O-P-E.
You can’t treat hope like a pet.
You can’t ensure it eats the best food.
Or train hope to do tricks or check the mail.
Or treat it to a pet spa day or vaccinate it.
H-O-P-E isn’t to be coddled or always sail calm seas.

H-O-P-E.
You exercise hope to make it stronger.
Hope has to be challenged and refined in fire.
Or scarred from spiritual battles.
Or be rooted deep enough to withstand life’s storms,
H-O-P-E is a muscle.

Exercise it well.
                            d.f.a.v. 6/4/15
—Donna