keeping the glass half full is defining
when you are thirsty
and starving; perhaps even
grasping for air.
no, not "gasping" because I know I'm alive.
it's the reaching for affirmation between
clouds of mockery that spread all around
and even from within.
this is the problem with hoping for
perfect water from imperfect
rainstorms that are drenched with
lightening and thunder and
scare my children under their covers.
it's simple to live up to those expectations
when they are drawn from
reservoirs of pity. it's lonely, too.
forget the rain, my old companion, who
would sooner drown me than help me grow.
i'm needing some sunlight.
sure, the half glass water might evaporate,
but i might see rainbows along the way.