In Memory of Hope


Where has hope retreated to?
And when did joy pass away?
Or into what grave for dreams
has faith been laid to rest?

Why are the eyes of future longing
willfully surrendered to be
blinded by the wounds of mourning past,
as if they augur approaching loss?

O, to find uneasy rest
for a vexed and weary soul;
to steal away into shadows
of languid, dreamless sleep,

Where, like the winter sun
masked by the graying sky,
yearning hope fades to despair
like diffused, impotent light.

Thomas Fideler

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© 2019 Thomas B. Fideler

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