In the House of the Beloved

[hack]

I rifle through
the inside out pockets
of rotting saints
and hope,
against hope,
that I might find
a bit of lint,
a word of protest,
even the tiniest mote,
to staunch the flow
where arrows
pierced skin.

But hope
is not faith,
and so
is stripped away
with time,
and the abrasive
motions
of the heart.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Speaking of "abrasive," this poem reads as if you had scraped and scraped to rid it of anything but the bare, lacertaing essentials!

[IceM]

Hoping against hope is a clever idea, and the last stanza comments brilliantly on a religious struggle between hope and faith, as many atheists I know are hoping for faith, eventually suffering what stanza two accepts.

Excellent job.

[hack]

Thank you for the reads and comments.
I have only been here sporadically of late.
It seems that by the time I see that there
have been comments, it is a little late for
replies. Most of what I have been posting is
fragmentary and unpolished, bits and pieces.

[Delta40]

I like your fragmentary and unpolished bits and pieces hack and this is a wonderful display of the facade of hope as faith being shown for what it is.

[tailor STATELY]

Howdy hack. Good to see you posting again.

So many ways to look at hope.

Your protagonist's view of hope is like Nietzsche's who likened hope to be uncertain, more of a curse in one instance: “Hope in reality is the worst of all evils, because it prolongs the torments of man” ("Human, All Too Human"). This is contrasted with his writing from "Thus spake Zarathustra"/"The Tree on the Hill": "Maintain holy thy highest hope!—Thus spake Zarathustra".

From dear Emily: "Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all" - Emily Dickinson

The "hope" of the gospels is one of action and certainty; and may lead one to immortality, and eternal life.

Be well. Hope to see you around more.

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY