Part of a 1993 painting copyright 1993 TerriO.A.

    Hope sees a closed door and seeps in through the keyhole and into the dark.  Lifeless you lay there with all sense of beauty gone no longer enjoying music or color. Hope sees you and whispers, “get up,” and “it will get better.”  You can’t hear the words, but hope stays long enough to stir something in your defunct little soul so you  sit up and listen.  What you hear in the aloneness you do not know or understand yet.  Friendship grasps your hand with warmth and pulls you out of that room, and by sheer connection you follow like a feather on the end of a rope. Feeling nothing, and seeing nothing you move blindly as hope guides you. Somehow there is a stir in the soul, and you remember who you are and why you are important to the people around you.  You never actually understand  hope’s dialect, but you just follow knowing that you need to move.  The dark gives way to gray and then blinking you see more clearly, but by the time you turn around to see who hope is it does something extraordinary.  With a mother’s love and the discipline of a father hope  hurls you off of a cliff into the bright sunshine and the swirling wind currents.  The fear turns into faith, you flutter and fly… just like hope knew that you could.            Terri O.A.



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