Hope looks through any open window,
squints through cracks at a barely visible, a barely possible future
because it is what we were made for–
hope, that is.
So even when life is its darkest, and smothering stresses would
choke, cling, and cloud,
there it is; there I am,
seeking that one weak seam
and finding the splinter of truth that shows its way beyond all this
to hope and a future.
So I hold on,
and I pray on: “God of the slimmest of chances, deliver me.”
Apronhead 