The Right Prescription

A poem

I wish hope were a pill
I could swallow every day,
with automatic refills to ensure
I never run out.
Then I would always be safe,
always certain that help was on the way.

I could carry hope with me,
keep the pills tucked in my purse
for on-the-go emergencies,
like when my mind and heart
are screaming “Mayday,” but
no one is there to answer the distress call.

I wish hope were a pill
I could swallow, but would I even like
the taste? What if my expectations are too much
for a little pill to fulfill?
What if my pain is too much
For a little pill to fix?

What if hope is not a pill, but a Person?
There are counterfeits that dress themselves
up to look like hope,
but True Hope has a supply that never runs out.
True Hope holds everything together, so of course
it is strong enough to hold me.
True Hope runs to me
before the “Mayday” has fully left my lips.

Photo by Alex Shute on Unsplash