Hope for My Child
by Stephanie De los Santos
A child -
lost innocence,
Hopes scattered
like seeds in a seemingly barren field.
Some will die,
remain buried deep.
Others will hide
below the surface
waiting for the warmth
of the sun,
the refreshment of the rains.
They will be reborn,
even blossom
in time.
Purpose will prevail,
though it alludes her now.
Yet, I dream of her.
The child I hope for
hopes not for me,
agonizes at the thought
of my home,
would rather be
alone.
Yet, I hope for her.
This child
resents the intrusion
into her life,
angers
at the disruption
of her world,
yearns for love,
but not from me.
Yet, I love her still.
My child
feels abandoned,
isolated,
out of place.
She hears others laugh,
wonders where
she left her joy,
her smile.
Yet, I welcome her,
yearn for her,
feel blessed
to call her mine.
My daughter,
not yet mine,
will be forced
from her home
by a stranger.
She is struggling now
to concentrate in class
because
she is hungry,
insecure,
angry.
None of this
is her fault,
though she feels
she is to blame.
She is angry,
but she can’t
tell you why.
She is bruised,
but she won’t,
tell you how.
She cries,
but no one sees
her tears.
Copyright © 2015 by Stephanie De los Santos
Soft Rains
Leaves turn,
Warning us with veined bellies
Of a coming storm.
Gentle winds
Tousle our hair
Leaving the impression
Of disarray,
Disappointment,
Devastation.
We hide away
In cars,
Homes,
bedrooms.
We take shelter
Within ourselves-
Within our own mind
Among our own kind.
Fearfully,
We brace ourselves,
Secure doors and windows,
Hearts and minds.
We startle at each unfamiliar
Sound,
Sight,
Or suggestion.
And the leaves turn.
Gentle breezes subside.
Soft rains cease.
The earth is cleansed.
There was never any reason to fear.
Stephanie De los Santos
1/7/16
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