The Battle with Despair

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This poem was written for a family with another family member dying in the same ICU my mother was in. They stayed day and night at the hospital together, the same as my family. Day by day I saw a depression begin to grow stronger each day their family member grew weaker. I wrote this for them.

It hurts more to give up hope and watch pessimistic premonition become reality, than to fight to stay hopeful, and have your hope taken from you. Fight. Fight hard with hope as your ally; allow it to be your shield, Your sword, parrying the advancing darkness, advancing fear, advancing tears, with agility and grace. Force yourself not to to bow, head bent, to Despair. Look dead into its eyes with a fiery passion, that would cloak Hell in Envy's green dress, and dare it to assault you. Dare it to pluck hope from your chest. Present the challenge. Fight for the loved one who cannot fight with as much vigor as you. Fight until, if God wills it, Despair must wrest hope from your soul. And if such dread were to befall you try, try to take it in peace; for where hope has been, it will return. Where a fight has raged, tranquility shall soon reside. Peace is a silent prayer unanswered. The remnants of lively vitality, of laughter, of the living spirit. Behind seas of tears and once round souls, with new darks places, there shall be peace. There shall be peace for those who gave not to Despair; who fought with hope as their shield and sword; who knew the depth of love; who knew the value of their fight; who knew that it would hurt much more to give up hope and watch pessimist premonition become reality than to fight to stay hopeful and have hope taken. Who knew to never bow to Despair, for it will never be chivalrous enough to help you rise.

Submitted: May 24, 2011

Poetry loss death poetry hope inspiration sorrow