My hope, my hope, my hope, my hope, my hope
Slips away, dissipates, disintegrates,
Dust, crumbs, cloud, the soap bubbles of a child
When it was as solid as my lover's body held by me
Or the ground I stand on securely
Or the orb of my pregnant belly, defining me.
Gone. All gone. If only he could see as I see,
Feel as I do, not agree but simply speak with me,
Ongoingly, then it would not be gone.
We'd have the durable intercourse of people.
My three lovely daughters, my self-defended fourth,
And me, would gather around the man,
And be family,
And be happy.
But it's gone. All gone. Gone.
My hope. My hope.