"Cease, every joy, to glimmer on my mind,
But leave---oh! leave the light of Hope behind"

-Thomas Campbell (1777 - 1844)

"To cherish what remains of the Earth and to foster its renewal is our only legitimate hope of survival."

-Wendell Berry

Looking at my feet                                                                                                   

black

black as the moonless night-

but even the darkness has the stars

black

black as my shoes are-

but even my dusty, scuffed shoes

reflect a little

light

Looking at the sky

branches yearn escape

ever stretching, reaching out

only to find the emptiness

that brushes at their fingertips

and only to find they are

eternally attached.

there they hang

until they realise the

emptiness is air

filled with sun

and they are attached

so they will not fall.

Looking out the window

lying stretched across the aisle

head and body on one side

of the blue chequered,

badly patched vinyl,

legs and feet on the

opposite seat,

body rocking to the beat

of the urgings of the bus.

arm curled across my face-

a vain effort to keep the

sunlight that flickers through

the trees from penetrating

my eyelids and creating

a kaleidoscope of jerky

patterns.

the blue and white bus

was my passage home from

school and the blue chequered

seats signified the moments of

sleep or rest that i could

snatch in that brief period

of my day when I was caught

between the vacuum of school

and homework

by the familiar way that I

rolled around on the seat

with the manoeuvres of the bus

I sleepily knew that we had nearly

reached the big public school that

was on my route

(left, left, right at the roundabout

left again, right at the traffic lights)

this always meant an abrupt

end to my moments of peace

as in the space of five minutes

the bus suddenly becomes a

crammed container confining

crimson cheeked,

cosmetic clad

clones

who knew it was my bus that stopped downtown

whereupon they would evacuate

and begin their many adventures

in the clothing stores that lined

our streets,

once again leaving the old

blue and white bus in the

peace it deserved

it was unfortunate that this was also my stop.

It was on a Monday afternoon that

I slowly dragged myself up as

I expected to be approaching the

school

however, we had only stopped

at the traffic lights outside

a small primary school.

I watched out the window as

a small girl in a red and white

chequered uniform sat in tears

on the footpath.

in that curious way

I wondered what was wrong.

As I watched longer,

I noted that by the way she

clutched her knee she

had fallen over

I saw the girl's friend approach

and squat beside her.

She reached out a tiny hand-

no doubt to examine her friend's cut-

as I would have done

but instead of touching the bleeding knee,

the friend was oblivious as she reached

out and put her hand into her friends

and held it with sympathy and caring

the lights went green and

we made our right turn-

the red and white chequered

dress disappearing around

the corner and becoming

lost in the roaring of my bus-

urging itself to another completion

of its well travelled route

Even though my moment of

rest and recharge was cut short,

I was not disappointed,

rather i was rejuvenated

by the simple kindness

two little girls showed me how to

look past the problem

the injured girl's friend didn't

laugh at her or

blame her for falling over

she didn't look for a culprit

who could have pushed her,

she didn't even look at the

consequences of the fall

instead, she did what solved the problem

one simple gesture of love and kindness and hope

two little girls slowed me down

and made me stop in a world

that is always looking for the problems

staring ahead

waiting impatiently for

the green light

maybe sometimes we could just

look out the window.

Looking at the simple                                 

Hope is in the pleasure of crawling into a warm bed,

snuggling between fresh, smooth sheets.

Hope is in the joy taking off shiny red gumboots and squelching little toes in mud.

Hope is in the delight of watching as the sheet of black goes over the sun at night

and seeing the little spots of sunlight shine through the holes.

Hope is sitting in a swing and slowly,

gradually,

higher and higher

until flying so high that I might become part of the air itself and soar away,

tossing with the wind then slowly floating back to Earth-

a better person for having seen

known

felt

hope.