Fathom Mag


Published on:
January 27, 2020
Read time:
1 min.
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I   listened   for   hope

but   silence   engulfed   me

except shrill buzzing from the music

of    Whitesnake    blasted

through  near-blown  speakers

in  my 1994  blue-green  Camaro

c o n v e r t i b l e

here  I  go  again  on  my  own

I     prayed     craved     pursued

kept   watch   like   a   hope-stalker

but hope proved more elusive

than my high school crush

effortless  six-pack  abs

Tennessee Volunteer victories

compliments from strangers

skinny jeans that actually zip

finding    a        freaking  babysitter

just   one   blessed   trustworthy   friend

I          wept    despaired    pontificated

fell from grace like a hope-deflater

finding hope proved thornier

than dinner conversations

with  my  entire  family

over mom’s cast-iron skillet

okra  and  fried  chicken

idolized politicians

d e m o l i s h i n g

or building dividing walls

 grace or truth for sinners

eschatological neuroses

my  ripped  Lucky  jeans

w o m e n           p r e a c h e r s

you   can’t  do  that  in  church

I     waited        wrestled  grieved

listened  again  like  a  hope-imbiber

but   hope   hid   her   face

 j u s t     l i k e        G o d

so   I   don’t   recognize   hope

only   that   silence   ringing

haunting  song  that  never  stops

here  I  go  again  on  my  own

every breath aches to sing

but   hope   escapes

I  cannot  reach

Misty Hedrick
Misty Hedrick is a writer, overthinker, stay-at-home mom, and student at Dallas Theological Seminary. The Smoky Mountain native wanders everywhere but finds home in Sevierville, Tennessee, with her husband, two precocious kids, and an untrainable dog. Follow her on Instagram @mistyhed or Twitter @mistyhedrick.

Cover image by Lili Kovac.

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