(Poem 268 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Can agony
awaken possibility?
Is it painful
for the seed
to sprout,
or is the bursting out
more like relief?
Will something fresh
find its way through
the detritus
and despair,
and if so,
how will we know
when we can
hope again?

@Home Studio – 268^th poem of the year