Hope

Is this how we give up on our hopes?
No really realizing it, but bidding them farewell
Without acknowledgment
Except in those painful moments of
Forced awareness
Which are so quickly buried in the business of
Being too busy to make what we so desire materialize
In the real world
Pulling it out of the realm
Of dreams and
Hopes

Counterpoint

Most people are principally aware of one culture, one setting, one home; exiles are aware of at least two, and this plurality of vision gives rise to an awareness of simultaneous dimensions, an awareness that - to borrow a phrase from music - is contrapuntal.

--Edward Said, from Reflections on Exile

Hope

And to all those who have wondered if America’s beacon still burns as bright – tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from our the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope.

--Barack Obama, Election Night speech

Phantasmagoria in Two

If I gave up all of my pride for you
And only loved you for now
Would you hide my fears and never say
Tomorrow I must go

--Tim Buckley, 'Phantasmagoria in Two'

Being

I rage and I rail,
People, they make me crazy.
People close to me and people I will never see again.

And yet, in my moments of awareness,
I am inclined to realize how each should be granted the same
Understanding and patience
I would ask of the world for myself.

The frustration becomes mixed with fondness.
And acceptance.
That's just how people are.

And I wouldn't have them any other way.

Kindness

...but now I am grateful for the experience, however painful it was then. I learned what it feels like when people are unkind. I learned that I never want to feel that again, and I sure don't want to make someone else feel like that.

-- Laura Love, 'The Laura Love Collection' liner notes

Saeta

Saeta.
The very term, with its double meaning, has a thrill to it.
The thrill of flight.
Its words you translated from your language to mine.
I could hear the music,
See your Christ in the lines,
Feel the passion,
The devotion and the agony.

The Christ of your language is alive - even in death
Warm.
"Ours" feels cold, cerebral, rigid.
No true passion,
Only cold sweat.