hope

the hope was sterile
in backdrops 
of winding clocks 
and days 
that seemed to stay 
for far shorter 
than the calendar 
made it seem
that they would. 
and there were times.
when the skies 
would cry. 
and the earth 
would shed. 
and the leaves 
just bled. 
and the dying. was everywhere. 
but. here we are. now. 
with the cracks. 
in the ice. 
and drizzles. 
on the window sills. 
all still. 
filled. with thrills. 
of new beginnings  © Hudson Biko

i am here