Faith is hope deferred
and sometimes deferred, deferred, deferred
Do I play the fool in holding on
Or is it pride speaking in refusing to let go,
Refusing to admit I am wrong?
Or is this hope real
In a year, five years, ten
Can I look back and say
“Your best decision was never giving up”?
Hope springs forth eternal
Longings of our hearts acted out in our lives
Unquenchable desire for something beautiful
Even if we only see the bottom of the quilt now.
We are messes of men, but
I am compelled to believe
That out of mystery and chaos
Comes beauty and order
And meaning
And that all manner of things shall be well.
Christine Greenwald 