We talked a lot about hope tonight
in class, our voices running together:
thoughts, like water, deep and wide.
We searched and sought for slips of bright,
as ancient words in modern ink told of
exile, fall, consequence and doom.
Grappling with God, we wonder on,
decide that in the midst of darkness,
hope is won in the wails and the whispers,
for it is our voices, seeking, unceasing, that
push the light