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Hope's Resilience

© Regina Sewell

We in the United States are living in dark times. On the anniversary of the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks we are grieving the deaths of thousands of Americans, the destruction of some of the core symbols of our nation’s power the death of an illusion of invulnerability, and in some ways, the death of hope. While we have been busy grieving, the Bush administration has been busy tearing down the system of social safety nets constructed by Roosevelt and reinforced by Kennedy and Johnson. We are losing our basic freedoms in the name of “homeland security.” We are losing social programs such as social security, welfare, head start, and a tax system that burdened the upper tier folks more than the folks at the bottom in the name of fiscal conservatism. We are losing our losing our civil rights (our right not to be discriminated against based on race, ethnicity, gender or sexual orientation) in the name of religious freedom. Oddly enough, rhetoric of love is being used to commit acts of hatred and greed. Many of us feel that we are losing our voice as national officials who later admitted to misrepresenting the evidence ignored our protests against an immoral war. Meanwhile, the unemployment rate is soaring and necessities like food, fuel and shelter are rising in cost. Interest rates may be low, but foreclosure rates are high.

As someone who believes that we are morally obligated to help shape our nation’s culture and policies I often feel hopeless, defeated, and ready to throw in the metaphorical towel. I get through some days by refusing to listen to the news or acknowledge the political reality in any ways. Other days, I feel completely paralyzed by the darkness of our current political reality. Through it all, hope floats through my soul and pushes me to keep fighting to create the type of world that I want to live in.

Here is a poem I wrote to describe the resilience of hope:

Hope dances in my heart like a boxer, weaving around doubt, her greatest foe.

Some days, she glides across the floor like a love struck ballroom dancer, blind to doubt’s dark possibilities.

Other days, doubt’s darkness overshadows her light and she crawls across the floor like a fighter who’s been beaten to a pulp and can’t get back up.

Still, she never quite leaves the ring. Although doubt is a cunning adversary, armed with whispers of the past that have the power to drop hope to her knees, hope is resilient. She keeps coming back, round after round, to dance just a little more.

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