Does She Dare to Hope?

Crouching in her cave
she gulps wine mixed
with sugars from the date and fig,
wine that burns like fire.
Bonds of frailty hold her fast.
 
Outside, in the garden of good and evil,
flowers big as moons bloom so bright
they appear to be burning flares,
but she cannot see them.
 
In her cave, all is darkness,
yet she seems to hear a voice read words
older than the prophets:
“Though our outer nature is wasting away,
our inner nature is being renewed every day.”
 
Does she dare to hope?

 

Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 

More Sunday’s Whirligig #153
   
More Poetry Pantry #395 at Poets United