She had failed to the point of refrain,
Yet kept pushing, over and over again;
Putting in more focus than she ever bargained;
Training her mind to stride on amidst pain,
Because she believed it someday would yield great gain,
Or maybe gain wasn’t at all the aim.
Whichever it was, she couldn’t ascertain,
Yet she dreamed on of being that soothing rain
that gave life to abandoned terrains;
To be that unswerving force that heralds a positive chain;
To be that light that could not be contained.
One thing kept her on that lane:
It wasn’t something that could be gained,
Or something one could attain.
It wasn’t even a “thing”, because such wasn’t worth the pain.
It was something seemingly mundane;
Something no one else fought to maintain;
Something that garnered little or no acclaim,
Yet made her feel alive and unconstrained.
It was Hope.
Hope that the world could be better;
Hope that she could make it better;
Hope that she could be hope to others.
She knew deep within that the world was dying
She knew the world needed rain
She knew the world needed her.
Poetry by Okorie Abbie Theophilus Oluchukwu