Hope dies last

Photo by Mali Maeder

Like a bird in an invisible cage,
I sang to you.
The more I sang, the more you plucked my feathers,
In the name of love.

Despite wanting to fly,
I just sat there, in self-inflicted paralysis,
In the name of a utopian future,
Because…. hope dies last.

Disguised in peaceful dreams and hopes,
Your love was a democratic access to pain.
Bewitched by the dance in your eyes,
I’ve taken the wrong road and I deserve the downfall,
But at least I am alive.

Salvation comes from within and not from others.
Between my tears,
Doomed feathers on the floor remind me that I am a bird,
…. That I can fly.

Blue and white,
The grimace of yourself dilates the moment,
As the color of the sky pours over my feathers.

Bereft of self- confidence you’ll catch another,
To sing to you.
I mourn for her,
And for the loss of innocence of the white feathers.

But the air in your world bears the smell of your fundamental impurity,
And at the mercy of time she too will awaken,
And will fly…
Because hope dies last.

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