Spilling Words of Hope

By Mary, Andrew, Tim, Gillian, Ann, Eleanor, Suzanne, Lesley and Sandra

He is ahead, striding out,

Now level with the church spire,

now down beside the river,

earth hugging,

cloud spotting,

laying offerings at the feet of lofty trees.

Her face takes shape in early morning light,

with the slow lifting of the bedroom blind.

She waits for the stars to fade, for the sun to

claim back the sky, utters

a wordless almost- prayer.

Is today the day? Perhaps this time?

For now, she is content in the separation.

A time is coming;

a time of stress and distress.

Destination: Disappointment.

Even she dare not hope.

The sea is glint grey today.

The wind whips the waves

and needless worries vamoose.

Hope pulses over her; rushing

waves crashing into the sun-starved

beach of her soul.

She feels full of sparks,

sky larky...

Her wings like dark angels

propel her northwards.

They'll know she’s coming.

She wants to stride out along the sand,

letting her feet sink in, leaving

footprints, as if to say:

'I was here.'