Hope is the thread through the darkest seam,
A whisper that cuts through the loudest scream.
It doesn’t shout, it doesn’t boast,
But stays beside when you need it most.
It’s not always fire, fierce and bright,
Sometimes it’s just holding on through the night—
A flicker, a hum, a breath drawn deep,
A promise the soul was built to keep.
Hope is the green in a world turned gray,
The small things that say, you’ll be okay.
The hand that steadies, the voice that stays,
The light that breaks in subtle ways.
It lives in cracks, in tired eyes,
In morning’s slow and sure reprise.
Not blind to pain, but brave enough
To say: This road is rough — but not the end of us.
So gather each moment, however small,
Hope is the thread that binds it all.
Stitch it gently through your day,
And watch the dark get pulled away.
Thank-you for reading.
Remember there are many paths back to God.
Follow your own path,
Brenda Marie
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