Where Hope Finds Me

Oftentimes beneath the tap that drips
the mantra of water like Zen prayers
inside the candled darkness of myself
or in the wailing wind.
Sometimes hope finds me
consenting to the push and pull of Nature
hobnobbing with eagles and hawks
that cast wary eyes but let me fly.

Sometimes in white February skies
portending snowfalls from heavens
rich with gifts that comfort-cover
the absence of sunny hope
or in the cratered wounds
the heart bears courageously
when past lovers donned convincing masks.

Oftentimes in the silence of noonday prayer
when I try with all my heart and soul
to link myself with the God Who loves me
with the softness of His grace.
Open-palmed like a mendicant
I accept alms to feed this hope-starved man.

Hope finds me beside the woman I love
the one God sent to reward my patience
joining her soft hand in mine
or lying still upon night pillows
content we found each other
where hope and love converge
where heart and soul meld forever

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