Can You Taste Tomorrow?
Have you ever heard news that sounded too good?
Not silly good.
Not small good.
But the kind of good that feels almost rude to believe.
What if someone told you that tomorrow bread would be cheaper than dust?
What if they said there would be more than enough?
Would your ears listen?
Or would your hunger laugh?
There was once a city that had forgotten how to hope.
Its gates were closed.
Its markets were empty.
Its people spoke in whispers, as if loud words might waste energy.
And outside the gate sat four men no one wanted near.
They were not leaders.
They were not strong.
They were not clean.
If good news were to come, surely it would not come through them.
Or would it?
“Sometimes,” said Pooh, “the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.”
— A.A. Milne
But sometimes, the smallest voices carry the largest news.
And sometimes, tomorrow waits for someone brave enough to walk toward it.
Part 1 — The City That Ate Hope
The city had stopped counting days.
When hunger stays long enough, time becomes heavy.
Morning feels like evening.
Evening feels like something worse.
Food had become treasure.
A handful of flour cost more than silver.
A mother looked at her child and wept for reasons no child should ever understand.
The king tore his robes.
The prophet spoke.
“Tomorrow,” he said calmly, “fine flour will be sold at a low price. Barley will be cheap. There will be enough.”
Tomorrow.
The word fell into the street like a coin no one believed was real.
One officer laughed.
Even if the sky opened, he said, such a thing could not happen.
His words were not cruel.
They were tired.
When hope shrinks day after day,
people begin to trust hunger more than promises.
It is easier to believe in hunger.
Hunger has been honest.
Hunger has kept its promises.
But what if hope keeps promises too?
“Where there is ruin, there is hope for a treasure.”
— C.S. Lewis
The city did not clap.
The city did not sing.
The city waited.
And sometimes waiting is the hardest part of faith.
Livora Gracely 
Leave a comment