Hope is a cruel thing. Even as you are falling to your death you hope there is someone down there to save you. Even as you take your last breath you are hoping. Even when you know the road is a dead end you hope it’s not. Hope, never dies. And even as it dies it is reborn again. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes of its past and spreading her wings into the future, again and again and again, it is reborn.
Oh no, it says, no solace for you yet, my dearest and it places a small seed of hope again in your heart to make sure you keep on breathing, to make sure you don’t die so easily. No, you have more to endure and when the flower germinating from that seed wilts, there is another to take its place and yet another and another. It is only when your mortal heart gives out that it finally stops its assault. Such is its nature.
But you know, if it weren’t for the seed of hope sowed in our hearts, we would all be lifeless vessels devoid of any and all signs of humanity and purpose. True, there would be, no cries of agony or tears of regret, rumors of hatred or shadows of defeat but there would also be no shouts of ecstasy or smiles of contentment, no tales of love or triumph of success. No darkness, yes, but no light, either.
The world would be a silent, silent place indeed, enshrouded in a veil of darkness and monotony.
Like a blank piece of paper, that needs to be smeared, to be dirtied, to be tarnished with ink to be of any consequence, our lives need to be wounded by hope to give them a sense of purpose and direction. For even as hope trips you and you fall face first into the dirt, it gives you the strength to get up, dust yourselves off and take the next step towards your destiny.
If there is one thing that is eternal and infinite, it is hope. You may try to hide it behind a mask of cynicism and carelessness but it is always there, a flame burning in the darkest of times. Be it rain or shine, summer or winter, war or peace, it doesn’t matter; hope is a constant factor in our lives, a lifeline; evil, yes, but necessary too.
The Author: Maryam Atta
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.