In response to a call for poems on the theme of ‘Hope’, I have written this poem. Hope is such an integral part of our existence and it has been roughly abused by the accepted increase in selfishness.
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Is this a trait in other life forms, or just us humans?
To stimulate it you must be able to envisage a future
not just live the present, there must be projection.
Its strength can be found in times of adversity
but without positive action it becomes a mockery.
When you sit in the chemotherapy chair
you can almost touch it, the confidence
to let the poisons channel in your veins
would be nonsense without its presence.
It is the only shield to brace against fear.
.
Hope is the sense that you can and things will,
when shared it steadily builds to confidence.
Yet, how easily that feeling can dissolve
thwarted almost instantly by unexpected doubt.
Festering disbelief is the precursor of dismay.
There has been so much to savage hope —
the nihilistic assertiveness of Brexit
with its sterile three word mantras.
The sheer ineptitude of populist politicians
careless of the massed dead that trusted them.
Where is that society that shared and cared?
Is it limited to those selfless few that saved us?
My simple hope is that the brazen greed and lies
will reach a pyrrhic climax and the resultant light will
illuminate a way back — to a much kinder country.
