Where will M.S. take me?

I struggle as…

hope insists
on yoga:
stretching
a flacid left leg,                                                                                                                           balancing                                                                                                                                        my torso                                                                                                                                          over an immobile walker.

Hope asserts
a selfish
desire
to push
through
difficulties.

Hope blooms*
in precise patterns
on the tie
my grandfather wore
everyday
in a home for seniors.

Hope calls:
a reminder
to embrace
the future
with dignity.

* this poem has been inspired by the amazing story behind a locally made salad dressing named, Hope Blooms. Check it out: http://hopeblooms.ca

Photograph taken by Rita of a spiderweb in her backyard (using a 35mm film Olympus camera).