Hope, There and Back Again
A simple anecdote about how when all seems lost, there is only hope to turn towards; Something which can often come to your aid from the most unassuming of places!
(Image source : Alamy )
Walking down memory lane,
Some twenty-odd years ago,
I recall it being the eve of solstice,
And back then, I was rather alone.
In quiet solitude, I used to spend my days,
Knowing not a dime about the social ways,
No loved ones, no one loved before,
No religion, or faith in God anymore.
Countless days spent, countless dreams forgotten,
Until I could count no more,
And I would ponder upon the fatal question,
“Do I want to be here anymore?”
One fateful day I opened my eyes,
Awakening from dismal sleep,
It was the day of reckoning, or so I felt,
For I finally cognized what my life meant,
Recognized what I must do,
And the sense of liberation that followed,
Oh! It was almost too good to be true.
Stumbling down a road known well,
As setting Sun welcomed dusk,
From where I was headed, there was no return,
But go there I must!
For the aim, the goal, and the reasons then clear,
And the logic that felt quite right,
Are precisely why I now realize,
That back then, all my feelings of hope had died!
But lo and behold, how wrong had I been,
My time was yet not near,
For as I paved my way to hell,
My eyes caught something rather unclear.
A flash of white, quite swift and vague,
Amidst a sea of green,
It was a dove trapped in a shallow bog,
Or so it appeared to be.
Broken and blue, but curious nonetheless,
The bird I kept in sight,
“Would it meet the same fate as me?”
I could not help but surmise.
Blanketed by mire, it thrashed about,
Using what strength it could muster,
But the cold sweep weighed down on its being,
And only tiny squeaks were being uttered.
All of a sudden, I jumped into action,
The reason, I knew not.
Perhaps it was a meager sense of empathy,
Or maybe even hope,
For the innocent bird in pain.
Frantic mind, but quick to realize,
I grabbed a broken branch,
And stretched it into the murky depths,
As far as it could advance.
And almost as if the soiled bird had been waiting for the chance,
It scrambled forward and grasped the opportunity,
Hooking its wings around the branch.
Almost at once, I pulled it back,
And took the bird in my hands.
It was firm and cold,
Enveloped in a viscid coat,
And not a hint of white remained.
It was as plain as can be,
The bird was still alive, I could hear its heartbeat,
Getting stronger by the second and in its eyes,
I saw the hope that I had lost, still burning bright.
And thus, I was saved, that ole path never paved,
The candle of hope relit.
Now, twenty years have passed,
And my savior long gone,
For which I lived my life once more.
I am not alone anymore,
For as I reminisce about the past,
And the shadows that I have braved,
My two little children are sitting on my lap,
And they shall forever remain,
The fuel that keeps my hope aflame!