Let Hope Go

Uncurl those grasping fingers
Let hope go
Let that soft blanket slip from around your shoulders
Feel the breeze
It will chill you,
Or warm you,
Or blow you off course
Let hope go
Push aside that embroidered curtain
Look at what is out there
Things you've never imagined,
Or never saw coming,
Or always knew
Let hope go
Watch that iron-clad door open up
To all the possibilities
Or impossibilities
Or to nothing at all
Uncurl those grasping fingers
Let hope go

          ---Sappho---

I Still Hope

I still hope
yet how can I
as I fly over the cliff
soaring, soaring
not knowing
when I will stop
how I will stop
frenzied bodies all about me
clutching others in terror
others, spread-eagled,
unmindful of all
but the openness of space.
Whee! Whee!
       --Xena

What Hope?

In the springs and summer of my life
there were many hopes and dreams.
Some of them came true, others not.
But I lived life, a good life,
and the years went by--much too quickly.
Now, with time running down
I find myself in the fall of my life,
and my hope is that my life has had value,
because I have tried to fight the good fight.
          --Lucretia

Hope is a Dream of Tomorrow

Hope is a dream of tomorrow
filling the spaces with joy.
Hope is a cool breeze
on hot summer days.
Hope is a love
that keeps my heart soft and full.
Hope is a glowing sunlight
that keeps the darkness at bay.
Hope is peace and accord
in a troubled world.
          --Scheherazade


And from Emily Dickinson:
Hope is a strange invention
a patent of the heart
in unremitting action
yet never wearing out.
Of the electric adjunct
not anything is known
but its unique momentum
embellishes all we own

Hope (or the lack of)

Does anyone know where to find hope?
I wish hope would be
a commodity
you could purchase in a store.
A store called "Hope Eternal"
"Hope Springs" or just
"Hope for Sale" (or lease)
by the hour, day, or week.
If one could bottle hope for the masses,
like wishes from a
genie in a bottle,
they would have it made!
Sorrow, loneliness--but especially,
pain--can give rise to
abandoning all hope.
If anyone knows the secret,
please let the rest of us in on it.
          --Gypsy

Hope Sustains

Hope is what sustains our lives:
The political prisoner in his cell,
The parents whose child is ill,
The one upon whose life a veil
of depression has descended.
Hope sustains.
          --Isadora

When Hope Comes Back by Josh Healey

By Josh Healey on Nov 16Receiving the Mario Savio award in Berkeley – Tuesday, November 15 “When Hope Comes Back”
View the video at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZcJpEOFTqQ

Well, that was fun. Powerful. And Occupytastic.

Last night, I was out on Sproul Plaza at UC-Berkeley, with over 10,000 people reclaiming the space for OccupyCal. I was there to receive the Mario Savio Young Activist Award, which had been scheduled for the same night across the plaza inside Pauley Ballroom. But with thousands of people outside demanding free speech and equal education on the very same steps that Mario Savio had once stood himself, the two events were beautifully combined, and I was able to give my poem outside with the people, right where it belonged.

View the video at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZcJpEOFTqQ

When Hope Comes Back
(A Poem for the 99%)


when Hope comes back 
he will be more than a campaign slogan 
and a face on a poster faded red, white, and blue


he will not come from a presidential palace 
bought and paid for like a Citibank stock option villa


he will put not forget to put on his walking shoes 
and join the picket lines in New York
 the bread lines in Baltimore
 to shake the calloused hands
 of everyone walking by

when Hope comes back
 he might be named Barack
 but he won’t be named Obama

when Hope comes back 
he will be a Black Panther baby
 who speaks Spanglish
 and cooks Korean tacos
and does 180 sun salutations
to the soundtrack of Zion I
- yes, Hope is hella Bay

when Hope comes back
he will be a UFW farmworker
who loves his fields and his flag
more than he hates his foreman
he will be a runaway foster child
who forgives his parents
he will be an Iraq war veteran
who returns to protest in Oakland again
without tear gas canisters to his head

when Hope comes back
he will come back from the future
in a DeLorean like Michael J. Fox
and show us all the things we’d won
like people swimming across the Rio Grande
for fun rather than survival
and the only student debt being to our livers
rather than to our banks
and then Michael J would take us
for a ride back to the past
and show us this is not our first occupation
Flint, sit-down strikers in ’36
Alcatraz, American Indian Movement in ’69
Sproul Plaza, Free Speech Movement in ’64
and every semester since then that was worth a damn
and reminded Berkeley what it means
to be called Berkeley

when Hope comes back
he will be one of my students
East Asia meets East Oakland
brilliantly cross-continental
even though he hates the ocean
speaks with the wisdom of Buddha and Mac Dre
really, he is my teacher
and I think he knows it
and we’re both ok with that

when Hope comes back
he will actually be a she
because hey, that’s who actually gets shit done
she will be a librarian by day, a DJ by night,
an Occupy activist in between
she will be thick hair and thick hips
and if you try to touch either one
you’ll get a thick hand to the face


when Hope comes back
she’ll show us to burn down the banks in our
hearts and love without lust or profit or restraining orders

when Hope comes back
she will be an OPD cop,
then NYPD, then UCPD,
refusing to follow orders
putting down their riot gear
and picking up a picket sign
cuz when the cops join the 99% they actually belong to
that’s when the banks will have nowhere to hide

when Hope comes back
she will be a midwife
in tune with the moon and the womb
an ancient healer who knows every herb in the redwoods
ready to help us birth a new world
one without bombs or borders or Michelle Bachman
a planet of peoples free to honor the earth
and each other like the God
in whose image we’re still trying to evolve into

when Hope comes back
she will be here
right here, right now
on the streets and plazas and parks
of New York and DC
Milwaukee and Austin
Portland and Nashville
London and Manila and Cairo
San Francisco, Oakland, and Berkeley, CA
with the people and the hashtags
setting up her tent in the morning
paintings banners in the afternoon
attending ridicously long meetings in the evening
shutting down the port of Oakland
and reminding us all that yes,
Hope still lives here in America
she has always lived here with us

and now she is back before our eyes
marching head high, fist higher
and whispering to the millions amongst her,


“Thank you.
Thank you.
You’re bringing me back.
Take my hand,
feel my pulse joined with yours.
Trust my taste on your tongue,
my strength in your lungs,
and let’s see how far we can go
together.”