Hope is what it meant for me

Tears questioning
on the inked tip
of a falcons feather quill

in a clear glass bottle
corked
emptied of it's brown rum
we were tiny built ships
with a three tired mast
crows nest
we spotted hazards before we were hung out to dry

reeking of determination
solitude
chains in this sinking cell
only let you wonder so far from these concrete walls

a hand emerging from the leading light
not religions requiem
not god granting prayers

lifts us upon tired black wings

so familiar
yet the only one here is ourselves
a single mirror of what we use to be


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inspired by the fantastic: mel44

https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/265507-i-see-her/