Now that we’ve learned that we’re

not who we thought, and the sirens

beckon us below despair’s depths

to live in the wreckage of other

sunken dreams, resigned to a diet

of salt and dark, we must remember

who we wish to be and kick back

to the surface to fill our lungs with

that which makes us float.

Hope will keep us buoyed.

When we can breathe, we’ll see

the others just below the waves who

need our hands to help them rise.

Who knows how long we’ll bob,

tethered with kindness and an

audacious certainty that it is

as one that we shall live? 

Hope will keep us buoyed.

© Dana Hughes 11.9.24