a poem by Pushpalata Venugopalan, India

Hope is
the hand that stretching comforts,
the flash that lighting alights
in the murkiest of depths, the stormiest of tides;
the solitary spark that gleaming returns
to eye the still of the distended doom;

the realistic boost that rescues life,
willing the spirit to overwhelm gloom;
visible in the lifted eyes, the future look;
it is the feather that gives a further fillip
the feather that fans life’s industry.

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