Written by Douglas Lang
In the heat of battle, from trenches to rooftops, hope leaves.
As the jury reads the verdict, in the eyes of innocence, hope leaves.
As we take the last bite of the apple, hope leaves.
Hope leaves while the crowd roars and twitters away its freedom to congregate.
Hope leaves while propositions of hate carry the day.
Hope leaves while the uneducated are prodded by the unprincipled to vote for the unethical.
Hope leaves as we lose our friends, one by one.
Hope leaves my children’s eyes as I tell them we have to move.
Hope leaves a bittersweet taste in my mouth.
Hope leaves the technology of change available to those who will use it.
Hope leaves no room for hate, no room for intolerance.
Hope leaves the promise of a new day in the morning.
Hope leaves the seeds of a new tree,
the chance for an appeal,
the reminder of what we’re fighting for.
Hope leaves the chance to make a new life,
to start again,
with your own hands and your family.
Hope leaves the light of what comes after,
in the shining glory of a sunset,
a remembered voice, a favorite song.
Hope leaves no room for hate.
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Douglas Lang’s poetry and fiction have appeared in a few anthologies. In between raising children and masquerading as an information technology manager in Northern Virginia, he enjoys writing about the hungers that motivate people to get up and do things. Other than a penchant for sestinas, he’s actually a pretty normal guy.