Today for the first time in four
years, I go to the computer
without dread about what new
horror is done or pending.
Hope has felt dangerous,
remote, unlikely. I dare now
to feel it, cradling my old
body around its fragile
warmth. I want to believe,
scarcely dare, looking over
my shoulder at those who
want to kill people like me.
Although it shares the sky
with blood, a rainbow gleams.
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