What Is Hope?

Entry by: Octopoda

22nd January 2019

I am on the edge of something.
I sense it.
Almost there,
just out of reach.

I close my eyes,
attempting to see
this thing
that I feel.

I am distracted -
a kettle coming to the boil,
wet washing to hang out,
birthday cards to write.

I ignore
the unease.
Unspoken conversations,
wasted water,
lost time.

The light of the morning
turns into
the darkness of the night.
Days pass,
and still I feel it.

Almost there,

I hope I find it.