Darkness

the night light shines through my window grills
illuminating my head with hope?

no-

hope has passed on, buried in a coffin
thrown into the furnace, never to be seen

ashes left in a jar
a jar i place close to my bedside

mother says that's why i can never go to sleep
but she watches the labyrinth of mess i make and

says nothing - only for this, for
she yells for everything else, and anyone

i grip the jar of hope with my sweaty palms
shaking it a little, and alas!

the cap comes off

ashes scatter all over my hands, my immobile hands
want to hold onto the dust, tightly

but my mind says no

reason with me: hope has died, hope had
succumbed to death, plagued by evil

no matter how i try to grasp that
little bit of greyish hue of hope

i don't recognise it anymore.

Reviews

[Jason]

This is great! I like the idea of trying to grasp the jar, as in holding on to hope? - perhaps...This was a very deep and thought provoking poem. Welcome! and keep it up!