John Guzlowski: Hope Is Our Mother
A question I get often about my Polish parents is what kept them going during the war and after the war.
Luray Gross: Catching Sight
Take my hand. Let us walk together, even with war raging,
with the sea rising, with the oriole’s winter home
yielding to chainsaw and bulldozer.
With so many songs being left unsung,
let us sing.
Kathleen O’Toole: A dimmer hope
First crack of crimson
in the January morning sky
engenders such an ache, not
only for the sun’s escape
from cloud block, but ours
from winter’s grip.
Rebecca Gordon: King Donald
Facing the Rise of Fascism Like Fools for Freedom
Laure-Anne Bosselaar: First Day of the Year
It is early. A bird flies deep into the sky —
into that large silence
Rachel Hadas: What do the classics teach us about hope?
How do we weather this welter of bad news? How do we adapt?
Rachel Hadas: Holding on to hope is hard, even with the pandemic’s end in sight – wisdom from poets through the ages
As we begin to glimpse what might be the beginning of the end of the pandemic, what does hope mean? It’s hard not to sense the presence of hope, but how do we think of it?
