iii. hope is the sea and the sun

for the first half of my Mitchell year, I worked really hard to find peace. during the second half, especially in the midst of unprecedented climate change, a global pandemic that our governments have decided to let vulnerable bear the burden of, and violence and displacement across the world – hope for the future has felt impossible. hope for my future has felt intangible. so since landing back in Dublin from Ghana, I have spent each day trying to cultivate hope.

hope is the sea and the sun

shinning sapphire reflected in the Irish sea

smiling flame whispering through the clouds

as my body burns in the cold of the water.

hope is the Dublin Bay at sunset

a soft pink and purple that hugs the Poolbeg smokestacks

a fearless orange that hikes the Dublin mountains

while my feet follow the sea in the sand.

hope is the persistence of the seagulls

that sit on my windowsill each morning

knocking to wake me up, just like Mom and Dad used to

yelling to their friends about the joys of goldfish.

hope is warm love from friends, new and old

on days where the cold grey seeps through the window

locking my body in the bed –

hope is purple and yellow flowers

stretching their stiff yet finally rested bodies towards the sun

hope is the grey turning green burning locks as spring lights my hearth.

the spring equinox at Iveagh Gardens
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