brittle (adj).

hope is made of sand, the way
it slips through my fingers and also
sticks to the folds in my ears, it falls
from my hair for days after, it stays
dust on the floor, the grit, I feel it
on the bottoms of each foot, even
when you think it could no longer
still be here, it is. 

hope is made from glass, the way
it shatters just so, into a million
and more pieces, the way
something so beautiful can draw
stinging blood, the way it
cuts deep into the skin when you
didn't see its edge. hope is made of
glass the way it glistens
and hums when you run your finger
just so, and patiently, on its lip. 

hope is made of all of the delicate and
difficult things, like secrets and giving,
it is made of a baby's helplessness and
evening whispers between lovers, it is
made of the kind of light that
helps you make out an outline
and doubt your line of sight, it is
made of all of the things that
you can only offer up to the gods, 
hope is
all of the things that
are unbearable to think
of losing, and that's why
we can't give it up, this hope.