POETRY PLAYGROUND WRITING PROMPT # 33
The Joy Of Being Hopeful
My mom gave me joyful hope and still does even though she’s gone
I’m as hopeful and hopeless as a flower after the rain and the dew that floats through it. We know we will die sometime, but we have to let life nurture us until we do. Are flowers and trees aware of this too? I believe they are! My beautiful mother’s life allowed me to feel this sentiment when she died five years ago. The first word that God gave me to help me cope with her loss was hope. The ability to hope for the future was not lost on her passing. I gained a newfound passion and understanding of the joy of hope. My eyes were opened to the immense existence of hope. Hope is a small word with big possibilities flowing through it. It made me realize that nature itself is a great supplement to hope. I was able to see her whole life as a tree growing with hope. A flower budding with hope. A woman truly blessed with God’s hope. A mother who still gives me hope even though she’s gone. Mothers are long time carriers of hope as they bring new life into the world. I wrote this poem about the hope my mother has given me. And still does.
My Mother - the tree of Hope
God shaped her life like a tree,
Whose branches spread out like eagle’s wings,
A fragrant honeysuckle bush,
A still hummingbird floated above singing in harmony,
And flew away to God’s glory.
To the extended branches she left,
Hope for tomorrow in the midst of sorrow.
A will to live and continue to give.
Just keep hanging on from darkness to the dawn.
The personification of it all,
Yearly strung and standing tall.
In everything she gave it her all.
In her love there is continued hope,
As we stand and continue to cope.
Her five full length trees-
filled with her great legacy.
Oh beautiful tree,
Can you still see me?
I remember seeing her pull a small twig from the river bank. She took it home from the park we had visited. She was the first person I have ever known to plant a tree. In nature and in me. She planted that twig in the backyard, and it became a big tree! And over the years, that tree was strong, beautiful, and magnificent. Just like her. Thank you God, for my mother of hope.
I am loving the work of T. Bass in all it’s richness and flow. Please read below.
Hope is one of my favorite subjects. Thank you, Jonny Masters, for the amazing opportunity to share hope through this prompt.
Thank you for reading.
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