• author
    • Stacey Robinson

    • May 28, 2015 in Bloggers

    The Magnetic Attraction of Hope

    So you try, even now
    You hope, eyes closed
    breath held,
    to hold absolutely still,
    willing the universe
    to somehow overlook you
    and pass you by.

    Except hope,
    you find, too late,
    is a magnet,
    obeying strict laws of attraction –
    the laws that move stars
    and iron
    and hearts –
    it pulls and teases and
    grasps everything in its path.
    And all those things,
    those flurried, fluid things,
    they race along the trajectory
    of your hope,
    flowing at the speed of
    your guilt and need,
    faster than light,
    to leap and cling and
    be carried by your longing.

    Hope is a trap of magnetic attraction.

    But you do it anyway –
    inhale and hold on
    for dear life,
    riding that wave of
    your own giddy desire.

    Just like hope,
    you hold on.
    In your stillness,
    in your fear.
    You hold on.

    And God!
    You can feel it –
    the air, trapped in your lungs,
    fluttering wildly,
    desperate for release.
    You feel its wings like a raven’s,
    beating madly in your chest.
    You feel its wings like a dove’s,
    frantic –
    frenzied –
    and you hold on,
    tight and grasping,
    to keep the all and the everything
    close, keep them near –
    all those bright and shiny Things
    that you have captured,
    captivated by their glimmer.
    They name you
    and claim you.
    They have their own laws
    of attraction, like stars
    and iron
    and hearts.
    And you are caught and kept
    as they are caught
    and kept,

    And your wings
    beat against the walls
    of your chest so madly,
    so weary,
    and spent,
    but still they beat.

    And all you need do
    to calm those wings
    that catch
    and clutch
    and beat,
    that long for
    in hopeless,
    helpless abandon

    is breathe.

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