I Hope Not
I used to love snow storms in New York, the white blanketing everything, making it all clean if but for only a day, hiding all the ugliness and despair, if only as an illusion.
It used to bring me hope.
Even the terribly devastating ice storms, freezing rain that turned the world to crystal.
Hope in a perverse way, perhaps reflecting the reality of hope as just a harbinger of despair.
But that’s a pessimist speaking.
Is that what I’ve become?
I “hope” not.
© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2014; all rights reserved