Hope is a rose that grew from concrete,
a candle lit in the darkest abyss.
Hope is what wakes a mother
again and again all night
though she can’t see an end.
Hope is being down for the count
but not tapping out,
and doing what you have to do
to make it through a drought.
Hope is what puts a smile on a mother’s face
even after being put out of her place.
Hope is the miracle of life
that warms you in the bitter cold of night.
Hope is…
B.