unfinished

I hold hope in my hands
like a spear,
like the world is a jungle
and the only tool I have to stave off hunger
is this hope.

Reality, he is the bright morning star,
finds me at dawn, huddled close
to my small fire.
He takes my hand

and whispers,
my love, you may not hold this hope so close.
put down your weapon;
come feast with me.

You may hope for an Italian nonna
to teach you how to cook traditional pasta recipes,
you may hope for an Eritrean sisterfriend and
for an abundance of Afghan brothers.
You may hope for a close team,
for another teammate next year.
You may hope for stunning sunrises and laughter.
These are the things you may hope for.

Put down your spear my love,
it will not serve you here.
All you need is a fork.

Hope this way,
come feast with me
in the bright morning.