Is it an equal trade

to swap

a past shattered by darkness and tear-stained pain

for an airy ethereal elusive hope of the future?

What is the tipping point,

that one grain of salt too many on the scale,

where one begins to drop coins

in investment for uncertainty

rather than gathering worn and melancholy memories

around them like a tattered cloak

soft and comfortable

but never warm?

Does it require a healed wholeness to hope

or can it be done with a handful of razor-edged shards

clumsily gathered and haphazardly taped into the shape

of what one once thought

a full and loving heart

should resemble?

*with thanks to Brianna Fraser for the idea of the title line in Outlander Season 4 Episode 11: If Not For Hope.