Hope is a wave
By choosing hope/
You commit to the inevitability of its opposites/
Despair, doubt, despondency/
The intimate bedfellows of a trust/
That starts in the chest and flows outwards.
To hope is to recognise sadness as a seed planted/
In the gardens of change/
It is anger turned into action/
And frustration, held in a clenched fist/
Thrown into the flames of alchemy.
This optimism can seem a rare commodity/
Appears to exist/
Only in the lives of those who feel safe enough/
To fight back/
That sense of possibility within the uncertainty/
An expectant thrill/
Rather than an execution.
This is a lie/
For hope can survive in the most/
Barren of lands/
Can withstand the pressure of a million voices/
Screaming while governments collapse/
And systems crumble.
It can look death in the eye/
Through the barrel of a gun and/
Still live on.
In times of bedlam and misery/
When the world is overrun with fire and ice/
The risk of hoping for better/
Can feel too painful to bear/
The chances of losing so high/
That it feels the errand of a fool.
Still we fight/
Aware that we possess the eyes of the lamb/
The roar of the lion/
And the heart of a human/
That refuses to give up/
Despite standing in the ruins/
Of a reality built upon lies.
To break apart is to become infinite/
Like the Ocean/
Whose song is heard with each crashing wave/
Her ebb and flow a reminder/
That we are not powerless/
No matter what they say/
We may not save everything/
But we can still save something/
And that something is worth everything.
Follow this tide/
Rather than the ones that flow with hate/
Remember that we are/
All of us/
Stitched into this garment of destiny/
With hope lining the frayed edges/
Ready to weave/
Ready to mend.