Benjamin MulumbiEven a night that will not bend
Must one day come to an end.
The clock may stall, the sky may seal,
But time is stubborn; light is real.
A wind waits for gold to climb,
A wound submits to patient time.
And hearts that thought they’d lost their breath
Can outlive a season’s death.
So hold the dark with open rope—
Dawn owes its rise to hidden hope.
And hope, though thin as thread or psalm,
Has carried more than faith or arm.
