my Mormon dream, and getting over it.
my dream is gone and with it went my plan
to stay the course and be there for the dawn
of some great thing. but I don’t think I can,
and this because my lovely dream is gone.
a lifeboat made of little more than hope
(not watertight and also slightly frayed)
and yet “the thing with feathers” helped me cope,
and stay! of such was my good lifeboat made.
I didn’t need the ocean to be true.
the faith (and miracles it would precede)
were not my gift; the hope would have to do.
my hope is gone, and that I didn’t need.
whether it is true or whether counterfeit,
still the work to do is getting over it.