I felt the thud of thunder

Ripping at the seam.


My voice it fell asunder

The pelting of a dream.



As a student I have become very familiar with the lingering feeling of being powerless, vulnerable. Sometimes you find an issue you truly identify with and give yourself entirely into idealism. However, many times one must reconcile with failure. We sit at tables urging people to sign a petitions, feeling powerless at the overwhelming disinterest. Begging walker-bys: "Would you like to sign a petition to help save innocent lives?" Only to be answered in a brisk, but definite "no". 

The world of a student isn't a magical place where our ideals shine light into every corner and rally everyone we come into contact. The truth is that hope is vulnerable. 

My favorite part of this poem is the imagery. 

If your voice falls asunder, don't worry. Dreams of students are meant to be pelted by the world. Hope is in a thud. It's in the violent feeling of the heart.

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