They tried. They failed.
They
tried,
they tried
to steal it away.
In days of old, and new,
and days long since passed away.
Look, look, look at the news!
One woman raped,
three men shot in old, static church pews.
Desensitized, dehumanized--
another genocide?
Another.
Historical.
Date.
They teach us
the words of history in
stuffy, white painted classes,
but my teacher just mumbles and
checks how well his
basketball team
passes.
No, really,
this isn't a joke.
Are you my teacher,
or are you your teams coach?
Girls in other countries
have to win wars
just to learn.
They tell me
to be grateful, but
tell me, what is it that I learn?
That my voice doesn't count until
I turn 18? Or that just because I was born with
ovaries, the importance of my
thoughts are even more
disesteemed?
Yea that sucks.
There. I said it. No,
it's not proper language,
but maybe I'm tired of being proper,
especially in my language.
I ask this question often,
but I will ask it again.
Can this world be
mended, or is
this the end?
The earth is soiled,
the sky, it remains dim,
just like most all of the human population.
Their hardened hearts remain bitter,
but I will no longer capitulate.
I anchor my soul
where The
Children celebrate.
They tried, they tried to steal it away.
The hope in their hearts,
the assurance of
better days.
A promise of tomorrow
resting on eternity's shore,
where the poor become rich and the rich
become poor, pain and suffering cease
and death is no more. They tried,
they tried to steal it away,
but one cannot
steal what
cannot be
taken away.
Hope.
Hope that
as many times
as the sun sets, it will also
Rise. Hope. Hope that humanity can escape
the shackles and chains of it's
demise. Hope.
Hope that in the
cavities of
darkness there is
always a light. Hope.
Hope for the victim and for the
culprit holding the knife.
Hope. Hope that
even in the
disillusionment,
horror, and wickedness
of this place, there is hope for
reconciliation. There is hope for grace.
My body depends on my heart
to continue beating,
but my soul is
dependent on the
One who is everlasting.
They tried, they tried, to steal it
away, but my Lamb was already slain
and He is with me still today.
He died. He rose.
He set me free.
Hope is
Him, and
hope is
me.