Defining Hope 

by Kit P., 18

Hope is not a thing with feathers. 

Hope is a thing of lead and thunder 
of fire and tides 
brimming with power 
and only held by the strongest of hands. 

Hope is a thing of grit and determination, 
of passion and tears, 
gripped as tight as can be 
because if you hold it long enough 
it will show you the way to be free. 

Hope is 
the hum of vocal cords when you shout 
the poster covered in bold slogans 
the half-bloomed flower 
the steeling of a gaze toward the mirror 
the bear-hug of a long distance friend 
the egg in your throat next to grief 
the laughter that spills from your eyes 
the first steps of a baby 
the flame at the end of the wick 
the unshaved legs of a woman 
the rain you dance in 
the kiss shared by queers 
the scribbles on a paper 
the shot of testosterone or estrogen 
the spark lighting your soul.

Charleston, South Carolina