Sachi

hope

Hope is a quiet creature. He doesn't precisely sneak back in because how can something that is so looked for sneak? Yet, for all my waiting and praying, for all my searching and midnight vigils at the front door, I woke up this morning and found Hope standing there in companionable silence- as if he'd never left at all.

-Zonoma

bad day

Yesterday was a good day. The fog lifted and the clouds parted and, for a few moments, I was able to see the goal - my fondest hope, that elusive city on a hill - and move forward with a smile on my face.

Today the mists have returned, as dense and miserable as they ever were, and I am utterly lost with the whispers of my heart and the loving nature of my God as my only guides  through this dejection and anger. The dejection is actually easier to handle than the anger. I can speak with it and keep putting one foot in front of the other as the path presents itself. The anger is trickier. I can't escape it and suspect that I may need its services to survive the coming days but, for now,  it is a siren luring me into actions and words I know I will regret later. It is so compelling, though, and it feels good. 

Today is a bad day.

-Zonoma

hope is hard

How can one live on the razor's edge between heartbreak and hope? It is living as a whisper within a world where profanity is not spelled out in syllables but in decibels. It is wanting to weep where tears are forbidden and longing to laugh where smiling is taboo. It is carrying a terrible sickness and having the antidote, too.

It is quiet here in this place.

-Zonoma