There are moments when choice

Is reduced to one solitary option:

We stand our ground.

Retreat is shut off

And our path is at a standstill

Yet hope rises like a song

Pitched more loudly

Than any naysayer

Than all of the doom rushing headlong

Towards our small sanctuary.

We feel the fear in our gut

The threat raising the hair on our neck

And we raise our chins

Lift our eyes to the obscured heavens

And give hope her freedom

To fill our spirits

With the optimism that heals

Terror’s sharp edges – Caroline A. Slee