Amongst spring flowers
and birds waking,
in seeping darkness
my family sleeps.

Silently, I start
another day
another turn,
around the sun.

Despite all the things
that are broken,
in the world and in myself,
I wake with hope.

I hold onto hope
clasping her gently in my hands,
like a fragile seed
waiting to unfurl.

I feel damp earth
beneath my feet,
sweet air across my cheeks,
rough bark against my skin.

Hope takes flight,
like a dandelion,
in the stillness
of the morning.

Helen Edwards

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