Featured Poem: Hope

I am letting it go, light
having washed its feathers.

The sky is a flat sheet
of water reflecting itself,
and when I face

its immeasurable underside,
there’s nothing behind it.
Only a darkening space

for me to curl under. Snug
in the spell of a cradle
rocking, I remember

the first time I floated
on my back as a child,
the unflappable calm,

as if I were slipping into
the future where the light
was waiting to come back,

and where I would find
my lost breath again
after I drowned.