By Elizabeth Gray-King
I cried for lost hope.
It wasn't that it was wonderful
hearts and flowers romance.
It wasn't remembered birthdays
or unreminded anniversaries.
It wasn't even moonlit walks
in autumn crisp-cool air.
It was hope.
It was hope that this man of reality
would be the man of my dreams.
Then, you see,
the shock of honeymoon-learned reality
could be lived with.
It was hope that died.
That's why I cried.
– From Eternal Springs: An Anthology of Hope, compiled by Geoffrey Duncan (Canterbury Press, 2006).
See also the previous Wild Reed posts:
• The Longing for Love: God's Primal Beatitude
• To Know and Be Known
• The Gravity of Love
• The Empty Beach
• What Now, My Love
• Karl Rahner on the Need for Prayer
• The Wonder You Bring
• Active Waiting: A Radical Attitude Toward Life
• Something We Dare Call Hope
• In the Eye of the Storm, a Tree of Living Flame
• Clarity, Hope and Courage
• All 'Round Me Burdens Seem to Fall
• As the Last Walls Dissolve . . . Everything is Possible
Image: Orlando Cruz (photographer unknown).