Holding on for Hope

I feel like a dried flower holding on for hope.
Pruned and wrinkled petals holding a remnant of color.
I can still stand, but my brittle stem with  br  ea   k  with pressure.
 
My petals            
 
will  
                scatter
                                               to 
                            the
                                                    wind  
                                                                         or to
the ground. 
 
I’ll be naked, and broken, and vulnerable –
without any remnant of beauty to grasp.
Again.
And there won’t be any life in me left to fuel regrowth. 

2 thoughts on “Holding on for Hope

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