Hope

Our little home is lit
With little else but hope
Even when there is little
To feed the little flame
That has fought like a fern
Gales that felled giants
Not meant to fall
The little flame knows
The hand that lit it
Had little else to go on
What is hope but
A flower that blooms
In the darkness
The sliver of horizon
The fisherman sees
The bird cry that hints
At the shore
The little flame
That feeds on darkness
Lights the way home
The little flame goes far
What hopes to reach,
Reaches the farthest.