Searching Poem by Bree Z Love

Timid taps on doors sealed shut, feeling defeated by fears of being stoned.

My hands petite and shone by looks that mocks old age.

I desired relief from the pains, saying 'I one handedly did not cause these strains.'

My attempts had been just to uncover and feel, a Hope that could be held.

Hope gathered people from each cover of the Earth with promising stories forever being told.

'Hold on, my hands will usher you on, onto the stage.'

Like a scolding and loving mother, I gathered my things, washed and bathed, in new Rain.

My attempts had been just to uncover and feel, a Hope that could be held.

I seen all the hands rise up, as I took deeps breathes between the tears and words,
'Thanking, Hope.....' No more searching for I can open these doors once closed.