As we bathe in the light of recent events, some of us ache for some shade. I know I certainly do. There have been senseless killings based on prejudice and hatred. There have been innocent, strong, capable, amazing and inspirational people shot dead in the street. There have been billboards and boats and flags and the same smug faces shouting their slogans and celebrating their arrogant victories. There have been newspaper and government moguls throwing selective opinions onto our phone and television screens. In many of the world’s eyes, it has been nothing short of dire. As a country, nation and world we have watched as confusion and pain have seemingly prevailed.
So I write today, fresh from thinking and talking about all of this in recent weeks with loved ones, friends and colleagues, with a simple ode to that ever elusive idea of hope.
Sometimes it seems so hidden. Left behind, unclaimed baggage that we simply refuse to find. There have been many times where the public voice of hope has been well and truly buried.
But hope has a way. Hope travels through the cracks and in a room full of darkness is drawn towards a place where the light can seep in. Hope is a grieving husband whose love for his wife and her legacy prevails beyond death. Hope is not afraid to take on her causes on her behalf despite drowning in grief. Hope is the thousands, millions of voices supporting a community in pain. Hope is the bright light of loved ones who will never let go of fighting injustice and prejudice. Hope is a nation waking up to news about their country and still believing we can retain compassion and solidarity despite inevitable unknowns.
Hope is not carefree. Hope is not idealistic. Hope is sometimes a choice. Hope opens the book again and helps us to pen a new chapter. Hope meets desperation where it could force us to crumble and allows us to have a vision of moving on.
Hope is a voice, bravely ending the silence with a new song.
Yours in good things,