Look, dear soul.
The sun is peaking through the clouds, ever so slightly
Streaming down like gold from angry storm clouds
Onto our sun-deprived faces.
Perhaps this glimpse of welcomed relief is only temporary
Fleeting as so many vital resources are in these troubling times,
But what should we care if the sun shines for long?
Let us savor it while it lasts, warm our chilled noses
Breathing in the light like gulps of air.
We cannot predict how long the storms will continue to rage
Yet there is no use in rejecting the sun when it shines
No harm in kindling hope in the midst of almost-hopelessness
If it takes us through this never-ending night.
The Therapy of Words 