Hope, Pts. 1 & 2

"Hope (less)"

We raised our fists,

shouted into a shared cacophony

of

voices,

stories,

anger.

We bent our heads,

whispered into a shattered conversation

of

voices,

stories,

anxiety.

We walked into the parade

because we had to do something,

had to be somewhere

but

then the deluge came,

and the confetti turned into

wet, wasted pieces of leftovers

and

we walked home in the rain

~~~~~~

"Hope (ful)"

The hardest part, they say,

is the judging.

“You think you know someone.”

I tell my daughters how it was,

before everything was broadcast

and shared.

Before the world shouted.

I tell them to take their anger,

their rage,

and put their feet to the pavement.

But to also take their fears,

their worry,

and start a conversation.

“Make them know you.”

Stories, I say,

can go a long way.