Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. ~ Hebrews 11:1 (KJV)

My life is trash, a rubbish heap of broken promises,
devoid of hope, worthless shards of possibility.
But I sit in a meeting, hear stories like mine,
see lives worth living, sense hope from hopelessness.
Then I come back just because I sense a kinship,
feel accepted. And little by slow hope nudges in.
The stories reveal pattern, assume form, substance.
Could it be, might it happen that mine could be one?
And incrementally I come to believe some power
evident in these rooms might find buried in me
a life worth living.