Hope is Iridescence.
Now your poet
Baudelaire said Hope is a bat
that beats its wings in ceaseless dark
against the ceiling of a blackened cave.
But I say Hope is Iridescent.
I say Hope is harder
to hold onto than a flapping bat.
A bat is flesh — an animal thing,
fear caught up in a struggling body —
Hope has no body.
Hope is sheer light,
surrounding us unbidden and unseen —
it sparkles and it disappears.
How do you hold on to Hope’s fleeting,
The crystal prism that is mine own
eye! This Iris
that bends white light
into colored steps you recognize,
all the gem hues of the rainbow,
the full spectrum of my flower eye, merged,
makes one glorious, bright light!
And once you’re one with light
you have no need of Hope —
The Light is you.
Yes, I work here,
watch the mess your bodies become,
see how hard you struggle,
each one of you in ignorance’s cave,
flapping hard and struggling brave —
its hard to build bridges out of shades.
That’s why I put colors around Hope;
so you can spot its arc —
and continue to hold on strong.
Yes, I know Hope
is just elusive light,
much harder to hold onto than a flapping bat —
But I got rainbows for YOU baby;