Where Hope Rose

Mid morning, on the first of Spring, On this day, what life did bring. The sun’s bright rays broke through the earth, Bringing light to this broken hearse. What sprout did appear from the ground? The trumpeters played their glorious sound. The shoot did grow and the flower rose, From this hearse came forth a Rose. Her pedals bright and red and lush, Awe struck, the sound did hush. The beauty that this one portrayed, Was lost in sight as more were made. This pure rose did lose her wings, As the world presented her with barren things. One, then two, then three did fall, At first was she, at last was all. But once more, hope did bloom. When in Spring, Winter’s late groom, A seed, now born from months gone past, Began to grow from this hearse at last. Hope now came from this great seed. She was brighter than the strangling weeds. Her petals flourished in the vivid sun, And despite the conditions, She would not be outdone. Her roots were thick, and Her stalk, tough; She was the diamond in the rough. Though the weather tore and tried, Her presence would not be denied. For in her place, though she was gone; Rose three more of her, belong. Though not as strong as her, before, Together the three were infinitely more. Because in this world love is lost To those who remain hopelessly untaught. And when one stands amidst a swarm, She will be shredded by their storm. But when we stand as two or three, We will never cease to be. Our efforts will be more and more, And together our numbers will match the score. Because on that day, when Hope was born, Though her mother, taken scorn; She embraced our sorry fate, And cast out all that was hate. So that we who follow in her trail, Though we may pass or in the future fail; We have planted a Hopeful seed, And it will grow amongst the weeds. For where there is hope, love will battle hate. And though the two meet at the gate, Love is triumphant because hate fails. And at the end, Hope prevails.