A New Hope by Carolyn Brunelle

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A New Hope

There’s a strange
sort of silence in me;
almost a reverence
for this tear
in my toughness,
that i can only hope
will soon mend.

Happy voices of youth
and laughter
are mute...
Time
speaks louder
than broken promises,
shattered dreams,
this disillusioned heart.

What good can come
of these ashes?
Standing here
in my numbness,
I pray for a fresh shot of life;
something new.
Yesterday’s dreams
are turned to dust,
I need a new hope
for tomorrow.

Carolyn Brunelle

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Rose Oldman (7/8/2008 11:46:00 PM)
This is a timely piece and well described for the times. So many have lost dreams turned to dust and must start over. Such sad stories, thanks for the good read.


Carolyn Brunelle (December 1946)