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A recent long, dark night of the soul, pregnant with painful self-doubt. Thankfully, it didn't last long.

The Death of Hope

Oh, the barren dreaded night!
The longing for familiar flight,
A touch of sweet sincerity,
Caressing words of love to me.
Dying flicker fight to live!
There is so much I long to give.
Teach me now to fan the flame,
To keep alive Hope’s magic name.
The hills behind, both brown and dead,
Inflict their grief on those ahead.
If God now holds no Hope for me,
How cruel a deed to let me see!
In my soul where dreams give birth,
Seeds of Hope seek fertile earth.
Much more peace to not have known,
The joy to come from seeds God’s sown!
Soon to die from needed rain.
So small amount would ease the pain.
Drawn to me at first it seems,
Through exposure of my dreams.
So much light was finally shed,
Where pain alone had ever tread.
Where Hope took its maiden flight,
A magic place of truth and light.
Weeds will grow in flower’s stead,
If not tended in their bed.
Shall I let the flowers die?
And pray with years my tears will dry?
If that is what God asks of me,
The death of Hope, means death for me.

Aria LeAven 8-26-06