(Jan.10 1985 / Martin, Kentucky)

A Lilac

There is a tiny plant,
A Lilac,
Weathered with drought,
Aged with an instinct for survival.
The Lilac must live,
Release the air,
Feel the Sun,
And take in the water.
The Lilac stretches roots,
Far and wide,
But the weeds reach farther.
Until nothing is left for the Lilac,
Except hope,
That it could still exist.

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Comments (1)

I want to convey that hope is... the thing left behind when nothing is left. If you still have hope -somehow you'll make it. You see I wrote this after seeing the man whose house had just burned down look at me and smile... Odd ya know-how an action so small can convey so much meaning. He had just lost everything in one night he had just the clothes on his back, lacking even shoes... yet still he smiled. he smiled his hope towards me... tacky statement-But his smile was the source of my lilac. p.s. I wonder what a lilac looks like... In my mind I picture his smile.