I wake to the possible
Today for the first time in four
�years, I go to the computer
�without dread about what new
�horror is done or pending.
�
Hope has felt dangerous,
�remote, unlikely. I dare now
�to feel it, cradling my old
�body around its fragile
�
warmth. I want to believe,
�scarcely dare, looking over
�my shoulder at those who
�want to kill people like me.
�
Although it shares the sky
�with blood, a rainbow gleams.
�
�
