Those that sit in this room have hope for everything.
Most nobody knows when they will be here and often times why.
Some are jubilant and others harbor great trepidation.
But what unites them all is their hope.
And hope is a funny thing, you know.
It doesn’t provide anything solid or finite like a belief or promise,
But rather a great illusion or chimera of something better –
Its bounds are ambiguous and its promises are intangible.
Yet these, in this room, find it’s all they have,
When clarity is obfuscated by the blur of white coats and the pain both emotional and physical.
Hope provides a momentary place of solace, a place where she remembers your name when she wakes up, where his next breath is not his last and where she lives to watch you clasp your diploma.
Though hopes can be dashed, having the courage to dream them provides a healing power that medicine never could.
Hope is not a panacea, but it provides the human element necessary to cope
With the unknown that exists in this room.