Dreams of the Earth: A Poem on Hope and Despair | Thursday Verse No. 14

  “Hope is a cruel thing,” said someone. Sometimes it indeed is. But should that daunting probability restrain us from ever hoping? 

  To hope is to defy the memory of failure, and to trust that what once withered may bloom again. 

  Dreams of the Earth mirrors this quiet defiance, as the parched soil once more opens herself to the promise of a single seed.

Dreams of the Earth

Photo by George Becker on Pexels.

One seed of hope was carried along,

Hypnotized by the melody of October’s song,

Tiny and tender it perched on earth's enclave,

It was eagerly welcomed by her motherly embrace.

She received it in her parched incurve,

She spun a cradle out of distant dreams and the moment's mirth,

Forgetting years of famine and drought,

She bethought of the bygone poppy a spurt of drizzle had once brought.

She fed it dews from crispy autumn nights,

She guarded it from the heat of broad daylight,

The spin of time soon revealed her yield,

A tiny green sprout broke through her earthy shield, 

Her thankful gaze looked at heavens in maternal delight,

And within moments the arid breeze charred her tender child.

- Mercy Rebonica