People speak of hope as if it is this delicate, ephemeral thing,
made of whispers, and spider's webs.
It's not.
Hope has dirt on her face, blood on her knuckles, the grit of the cobblestones in her hair, and just spat out a tooth,
as she rises, for another go.
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December 13th is Lucia’s day.
made of whispers, and spider's webs.
It's not.
Hope has dirt on her face, blood on her knuckles, the grit of the cobblestones in her hair, and just spat out a tooth,
as she rises, for another go.
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December 13th is Lucia’s day.
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The "year's and the day's deep midnight”, the day with the longest night.
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Hope needs to be stedfast and unshakable, to guide the battles we have ahead of us, for the years to come.
We cannot surrender to apathy and despair.
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