By Sahara Rudra
The word “hope” emanates from the Old English hopian; to wish, to dream, to have something to look forward to. The archaic meaning is to trust, and we have never needed trust more than we do now. We watch humanitarian disasters unfold across the world, helplessly staring at tiny screens in the dark. Our leaders prefer profits to peace, and sometimes, the enormity of suffering feels suffocating. But the powers that dictate our world rely on us losing hope, and on us repeating to everyone and ourselves that there’s nothing we can do. In environments like LSE, we’re taught to analyse, to question, to look for proof. Where can we find proof of hope?
Hope brings us together every Saturday morning, rain or shine, to march for a better world. Hope can be found in pieces of poetry scattered on the street; in the embrace of a friend who understands what you mean regardless of how you say it, the divine chorus of ‘how can i help?’. Hope exists in the markets of London, walking down Columbia Road and seeing all the people who decided to get dressed up and spend a Sunday morning buying flowers with their loved ones. Hope is found in every comforting facetime from my mother, every ‘just checking in’ message from my best friend, and every new connection made. Hope exists in the form of street musicians who sing regardless of the weather. Hope is found outside of your phone, outside of the constant flurry of news and updates of a fast-paced world that you tire yourself out trying to catch up to.
Hope takes your hand,
Stays patiently while you rest,
And will return when you least expect it.
Hope exists in the delight of your childhood self’s laughter and the wrinkles you will one day have.
Hope is what got you here in the first place.
