Hope

I am convinced that hope is a lifeforce.

  Reflecting on moments in my life when

  I could no longer face forward, or stand.

Circumstances, different and changing. 
  But one thing there, perilous, terrifying.
  A crushing and interminable loss of hope.

The loss of hope always accompanied
  by a tightness in my chest, the inability
  to draw oxygen from the chi in my lungs.

The loss of hope always materializing
  the nightmares from the dark recesses
  into reality, ugly, malevolent, malignant.

There are no tomorrows when hope is lost.
  All the todays and yesterdays dissolve into a
  primeval, undifferentiated consommé of loss.

How much does the loss of hope account for
  the widespread malaise and hate in our society,
  addictions to money, hate, drugs, the past, work?

When one’s world shatters or slowly collapses,
  and everywhere one looks, there is nothing to
  stop the looming destruction, what is left of life?

How does the human spirit survive loss of hope?

When one carefully arranges the effects of one’s life
  to survive the continual onslaught of losses, and then
  another inescapable blow lands, how can hope survive?

How does the human spirit survive loss of hope?

When everything, everyone, every god has failed you,
  which way do you turn, how can you possibly breath,
  what is left to encourage you to stand and face forward?

How does the human spirit survive loss of hope?

You are in my heart, Terry.