Where there's Hope...

“Where there's hope, there's life. It fills us
with fresh courage and makes us strong again.”
― Anne Frank,

From an upstairs window I watch you
put down your walking-stick,
as, somehow, you kneel. Seems,
for all the world, as if you’re praying;
your pain – mirrored in the eyes
of a Cinnabar Moth,
floundering in the grass...

cupped between your hands. Bright
as hope smoulders in the ashes
awaits the spark from a dying flame;
wings stuttering – cocooned in this warm,
damp haven; more dead than alive
whilst you hold it to your lips, like
your willing it to live would be
the kiss of life.

Poppy-petal wings quiver
in crimson beauty, and I catch
my breath; summoned, way too soon,
as so many others. Will it choose
to leave, now – fly in the face
of its creator? Or rise, into
this cornflower afternoon...
and not look back.