Hope

Well, its our "Independance" Day again.

What a joyous occasion.

Its like a party.

Racial discrimination, jealousy and anger are dancing on the floor.

In the corner of the room joy and unity are drunk and passed out.

Hope wasn't invited.

Fear is the theme for the night.

Injustice is the host.

Friends are pulled apart by the music of the night.

Lovers fight, hate laughs.

Grey skies block the bright sunshine.

the lights dim, out comes an iron pot.

Inside, water boils.

All goodness screams with pain, evil grins.

Everything ends with a thunderous roar.

The mighty, the good, the pious, all become silent.

The night is owned.

There is no sound.

No laughing, no joy, no peace.

No beauty.

The only sound is crying.

Somewhere in the ink-black night.

There is still one streetlight lit.

A child.

A child under it.

Crying.

All around him, forces are brewing.

But they do not pass into the light.

The child is safe for the moment.

The child sobs.

Sobs for everything that has passed.

He sobs for the wars, the deaths, the innocence taken.

The child.

No older than 4.

With skinned knees and broken fingers.

Broken.

Evil smiles. Shows his teeth.

He laughs. Fire in his mouth.

But the child is safe.

Safe in the light.

The child has a name.

Hope.

by Leon