Hope Chest

If I could trap my hope inside a book
like a modern-day Pandora with her box,
whenever reality mocks
my expectations, I could take a look.
Isn’t it that way: no number of locks
can imprison disappointment, pain, and loss,
but even the feeblest grip
has strength enough for hanging onto hope.
(It clings to our limbs like hanging Spanish-moss,
hides the noose, and lines the lynching-rope.
Sometimes, she is cruel,
crying “Peace, peace!” when there is no peace.)
And yet, I’ll trust her. Let my doubting pass
and I will gladly play the occasional fool;
Better to release
despair and try than fear and never dare.
If I could trap my hope inside a book,
it would be her name. When things look bleak
and all hope is scarce,
If I just say her name I’ll gain it back.