Hope

In spite of
what we say and do
it’s not going to be any different
this time.
Again.

It is pouring heat outside,
and we thought it would rain,
when we meet again.

You were gone so long
that I mistook your return
for a change in fortune.

We all do it in our own
sinister little ways –
burdening change with expectations
beyond its means.

I let another spring go by,
unconsumed.
I wanted to be just happy to see you
when you first stepped in.

This stressed excitement
is so different from what I had hoped for.

I look back now and think
what more can planned happiness deliver?

Hope is such a disastrous beginning
to anything you hope for.
The next big war
I hope, will be fought against hope.

How am I going to hide the fact
that I collapsed because you gave in
so easily and so soon?

How many questions am I allowed
to ask myself
before the time for answers runs out?

May 13, 2009