It hovers in dark corners before the lights are turned on, it shakes sleep from its eyes and drops from mushroom gills, it explodes in the starry heads of dandelions turned sages, it sticks to the wings of green angels that sail from the tops of maples.
It sprouts in each occluded eye of the many-eyed potato, it lives in each earthworm segment surviving cruelty, it is the motion that runs from the eyes to the tail of a dog, it is the mouth that inflates the lungs of the child that has just been born.
It is the singular gift we cannot destroy in ourselves, the argument that refutes death, the genius that invents the future, all we know of God.
It is the serum which makes us swear not to betray one another; it is in this poem, trying to speak.
– Lisel Mueller from Alive Together
These materials are used pursuant to fair use copyright provisions of the US Copyright Act (17 U.S.C.§107).
“We must learn to stand in the tragic gap, faithfully holding the tension between what is and what could and should be—without flipping out on one side or the other.” –Parker J Palmer, Healing The Heart of Democracy
✍️ Writing Prompts
Where does hope hide in your life? Describe a place, a moment, or a memory where hope “hovered in a dark corner” before the light arrived.
Write a poem about the small, quiet things that bring you back to life. List the overlooked "serums" in your life—small kindnesses, acts of beauty, or moments of connection that help you remember your aliveness.
“It is in this poem, trying to speak.” What is trying to speak through your writing, your silence, or your daily life?
🌀 Active Contemplation
Observe a small, living thing— A dandelion puff, a worm in the garden, a leaf floating down. Stay with it for five full minutes. What do you notice when you don’t look away? What does it reveal about not giving up? About hope?
🪶 Contemplative Action
Carry hope deliberately today. Choose one small, hopeful act that refutes despair: – Write a note of encouragement. – Follow through on a commitment – Begin something new, no matter how small.
Let this action be your way of living yourself into the possibilities.
“The kind of hope I’m talking about is not a feeling that things will turn out well. It’s a conviction that something is worth doing no matter how it turns out.” –Parker J Palmer
A Dangerous Old Woman (and The Writer's Sherpa) is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. All subscribers, paid or not, get the same goodies.
