I thought last month when the water pipe burst in the wall of my best friend’s apartment, soaking much of the the flooring, that she was one of the most unlucky persons I knew. The burst pipe was one in a long string of unfortunate events in her life. Her issues pale in comparison with another friend of mine who, since Easter, was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, had surgery that permanently damaged her vocal cords, and then got the terrible news that her only son, who she had placed for adoption forty years ago and reconnected with last year, had died of the Covid-19 virus. She writes that her life has turned out like a country western song full of bad luck and disaster. She has supportive family and friends, but how on earth do you get beyond these sorts of tragedies?
I don’t know why but I couldn’t help thinking about e e cummings poem, nobody loses all the time after hearing about my friends’ terrible luck.
It isn’t exactly a comforting poem, and I suppose it cold be construed as pretty irreverent, but I think it sums up a need to find hope in the darkest of times.
What gives you hope? Share some hopeful poetry.