Tears, how wasteful. The fish in the ocean could use my unneeded tears to live on. I should not give them away so easily. I see horrible things. I see hurt, death and pain but I know there is A Hope.
I could cry. Really, I could. I could fling myself in my room and hide while filling my hands with tears. Why don’t I?
A Hope stops me from doing these bland and blank things, that’s why.
I smile at the thought of this salvation. Hope is a curious concept, is it not? This Hope opens my eyes and I see things. I see rain that drenches the dry desert of hurt. I see sunlight that illuminates the sting of death. I see arms outstretched to embrace my pain-torn body.
This Hope is alive.
I could cry when I see injustice, cruelty or heartbreak. This would be justifiable, really. Instead I choose to hold on to this Hope. As I cling to this Hope I feel things. I feel a swift wind of justice swirling through the world, fixing what is wrong. I feel a blanket of rightness covering those who have been the victim of cruelty. Lastly I feel warm, rolling waters overtaking the pain of a broken heart, soothing them.
This Hope makes me smile. It lights up my eyes and takes me home. This Hope holds me back from sadness. As I bow my head to cry this Hope lifts me and says, “There is no need for that.”
And I believe in this Saving Hope, why should I deny what I not only see, but feel as well?