Anatomy – Veronica Florendo As flesh rots, as lips dry, as bones become brittle, she remains. She, the root of all desire, mother of every “Hail Mary” that has died on one’s tongue, the being tied to humanity’s extinction. She is Hope, the embodiment of human desire. Yet, who truly is the elementary enigma that is she? How then, is she shared between all men? As the scalpel slices through her skin, events become tangible, and bursts of colour cascade across one’s monochromatic perception. Her multiple facets reveal themselves, one by one, as every chasm and every crevice is dissected. In her hands, the weary lay, praying with clasped callous hands. As they labour day and night, eye bags sinking, they cling onto it. Someday, they will be more than they are, they will be bigger and will reach farther than what they had deemed possible. Their individual work is not in vain, for in it, lays the hope of forming something whole. In her feet are the wayward travellers, searching for their own direction. In their journey, they seek to find not the end, but the new beginning. As the proverbial explorer journeyed to faraway lands, braving storms, barren fields, and traps hidden in every crevice, so do them, in hopes of finding what they seek. Whether it is a person, a tangible object, or something that lays dormant within the catacombs of the self, they relentlessly trudge on. In her hair lies the longing for one’s lost youth. Containing both those who grew up too fast and the ones that had it taken away from them, its strands are full of cherished innocence. A bracelet lies in one of its knots, given by a girl who once meant the world, containing intermittently placed pink and red beads and a promise. The hope that she would return, all
malice purposely forgotten, and that they could, play together once more, lingers still in her heart. In her lips is every word imparted in intimacy. A mutual pact, the promise shared between two lovers must be kept. To the speaker, it’s an oath that must be fulfilled. To the receiver, it’s hoping that what was promised will transform into something real. Bound in blood and abounding faith, she sends her only son off at the airport, and waits for his return. In the gaps of her teeth, she finds a chance to be free. All the abused who are damaged and broken hope that someday, like her, they can escape from their dreadful reality. She fights, she lashes out, and she won’t give up because deep down, she knows that she has a chance. Despite what he says, despite the words that cut through her and berate her endlessly, she knows that in the gaps, she can find her escape. This hope keeps her alive and spurns her to carry on and cease the cycle of violence she is enclosed in. In her chest lies a warrior’s heart. All those descended from the mighty gladiators, whether it be a first-rate soldier or a simple street vendor, have faced the fear and suffering that is commonly coupled with war. As refugees hope to see their ravaged, war-stricken country prosper into the nation that it once had been, so do the children on the street wish that they could play along the streets once more without the threat of being blown to smithereens. The bravery and self-sacrifice present in each person, buried within their chasms, allows one to not only hope for oneself, but for others. The courage that had been imparted upon their hearts pushes them to believe that though it may not be easy, they will live another day. In her eyes lie those who look up and dream of the stars. The “Eureka” moment trademarked by Einstein is not fiction. As one strives to achieve what they want, they grow
closer to their goal, as hope spurns them on. Hope helps them realize that nothing is ever impossible and that if they wish it, they can do it. In her heart lies her lover’s voice. In her heart lies the words left unsaid between lovers as they lay in its comforting silence. In her heart she maps out her lover’s canvas, memorizing every landmark. And as he says his final goodbyes, she hopes that they’ll meet again. As shown, she, hope, does not have a single, all encompassing definition but is a hodgepodge of every human endeavour. It is not merely shared, but is present in all people, for it is the root of humanity. To hope for something, anything, may it be a brighter future or the return of a loved one, is what makes us human. Our capacity to dream and believe is what truly defines us, therefore hope is not shared but an innate part of our selves, ingrained in our synapses that has not only pushed us to survive, but pushed us to live.