The Dawn of Hope

Hope
rests
in autumn’s dying leaves
in winter’s naked trees
and the whispers of spring. 

Hope
is formed
in the peacelessness of death 
when horror plunders breath –
in the unrest it brings. 

Hope
is found 
in the weakness of man’s heart,
in his toils, rent apart
his pleas for reckoning. 

Hope
was born
in the Garden, at the Fall
in new knowledge of it all – 
from truth’s curse, choice now sings:
“Will you love heaven’s King?”

8 June 2016
Written at Wave Hill, after a study of the horrors of World War I.