The older I get,
The longer this is.

Wanting to save,
Comfort,
Heal,
Them all.

But I’m no god, you
Can say I got it
Ass-backwards.

Bound by the chains
Of reality. Looking
Across a field of hope,
Fenced in the end
By doubt.

So, I look up and I…

Howl.

When (if) there’s good news,
My soul lifts with
Foolish pride.

As though I had
Something to do
With it.