David Murphy
Our hope rises like a strong wind,
buoying us as we ascend
from gloomy fogs we’re loathe to fly
into a clear and better sky,
one where fewer troubles attend.
From lonely walks with tragic ends
to crowded tracks among cold friends
where we’ve left our own dreams to die,
our hope rises.
Even as we misapprehend,
stumble, fail at making amends,
and live a self-evident lie,
still, if we but honor and try
to be noble before life ends
our hope rises.
He came from the world beneath,
Where the rule is to survive.
He had hard fists, sharp teeth.
He rumbled to stay alive.
With nothing to lose
Life’s simple as hell
There’s little to choose
In a place forever unwell.
He was thrashed and scarred
Frightened and scared
Kicked out and barred
He left nothing bared.
One day he fought himself free
And saw horizons unfurled
The way it was meant to be
In this gnarly old world.
He looked around and saw
A healthy place to stay
And marveled in awe
That he’d found his way.
