It Asked a Crumb of Me

Hope is the thing that catches you
When you have children
It perches in your soul like

A quiet song, you cannot explain it
Faith has feathers without words
It’s simple, profound

And has a quality that never stops
Its flight traverses dawns
Hope is a quality of purpose

To have a future is enough
Little birds must content with
All the dangers, just like you

Hope is not found in all
The parts of this world, some resent it
Others have reset it, it lingers

In the back of our minds
Even when storms have come
Hope inches you forward
Sore from tragedies, it brings you
Your people, and sometimes

That is enough to get through another day
Sometimes nobody comes
And you must go inside
To find the peace of the strangest sea
To find crumbs of divinity.


Michael K. Shiu's picture

Michael grew up in the alternative community in South India, Auroville, where he was exposed to some of the mystics of that country and beyond. He started to write poetry in his early 20s as a result of studying philosophy and poets in the local library. Prolific, he enjoys blogging on his site: He usually write under the pen name: Wuji. Currently residing in Montreal, Quebec.

Last updated April 04, 2015