Imagine

A war 

A worldwide pandemic

An election

Mobs 

Angry leaders 

A wall

These memories linger in our textbooks, our phones, our computers, in the air.

These memories have shaped our world as we know it.

It’s like:

You would step outside, and immediately hear the screams of fighting souls,

See the broken shape of a mother clutching her dead child, bullets ripping through the air,

Smell the scent of poverty, for not all can live like kings, 

Touch the rubble of cities, which is all that’s left due to the effects of climate change,

Taste the blood and tears in the water, because if you aren’t careful, bodies will litter history, while their ghosts wander aimlessly through the centuries, unknowing if their deaths are in vain. 

But in this destruction, this war, this pain, there is still hope. It is damaged, shaken and bruised, but it is still there. Its small slender body weaves around the mother, causing her to look up at the sun breaking through the clouds, and give a small smile, knowing her child is safe now. It circles around a mob of protesters and spreads its wings, sending a wave of determination through the crowd. It dives down, landing on a man playing guitar, strums of happiness coming out of the strings. It is everywhere. Hope is not just a feeling that you get once in a while. It's a part of you. It makes us human. Those without hope, rarely make history. In a way, hope is history. It was with Harriet Tubman, when she freed the slaves. It was with George Washington, when he became the first President of the USA. It was with Mae Jemison, when she became the first black woman in space. Hope is in the future. Hope is the future. And in a hundred years or so, hope will be EVERYONE’S future. We need it. We will be it.