When coaxing from me life and breath,
You could’ve gifted anything–
Beauty, grace, reprieve from death
An angelic voice to sing.
Or, You could’ve stepped upon my neck
And silenced all hope with “no,”
Instead you created me, a speck–
And you gave me hope to grow.
I grew beyond the speck of dust,
Became the universe entire.
You gave me hope, and hope I must
For all that We can acquire.
You gave me words, and pen in hand
You force my words to free
“Write,” you said, and with that demand
You gave me hope to see.
I hoped for peace and love and truth
And I hoped for happiness
I hoped for life, infinite, and youth
And I hoped for eternal “yes.”
Yes, you can live infinitely
Yes, you can hold in your hand
Worlds and words–immortality–
For that which you hope– demand.
With this hope I have left behind
The dust from which I have risen
Still, hope cannot still my mind
And thus, it becomes my prison.
You could have given me just enough
To keep me satisfied.
Instead, you cursed me, a silent rebuff
And in that hope, you’ve lied.
I stumble, waiver, hard I fall,
Searching for you all the while.
I reach for you, you ignore my call
You dangle hope and you beguile.
I hoped that if you did not hear
Your “grace” would lead the way,
But in place of hope, abiding fear
And from the fear, decay.
My hope and faith crumbled to dust
A vast void left behind
Anger, despair, pain, distrust
No hope for peace of mind.
I am left with diminished hope
I keep it close, untasted.
I traverse down the endless slope
Away from the life I wasted.
You could have stepped upon my neck
You could have told me not to grow
I created you, you are a speck
Does He exist? No.
I hope that when the void greets me
You are not behind.
Without you, creator, I am free
To hope without you, blind.