I have a small grain of hope–

one small crystal that gleams
clear colours out of transparency.

I need more.

I break off a fragment
to send to you.

Please take
this grain of a grain of hope
so that mine won’t shrink.

Please share your fragment
so that yours will grow.

Only so, by division,
will hope increase,

like a clump of irises, which will cease to flower
unless you distribute
the clustered roots, unlikely source–
clumsy and earth-covered–
of grace. 
~Denise Levertov “For the New Year, 1981”

As this year draws to its end,
We give thanks for the gifts it brought
And how they became inlaid within
Where neither time nor tide can touch them.

The days when the veil lifted
And the soul could see delight;
When a quiver caressed the heart
In the sheer exuberance of being here.

Surprises that came awake
In forgotten corners of old fields
Where expectation seemed to have quenched.

The slow, brooding times
When all was awkward
And the wave in the mind
Pierced every sore with salt.

The darkened days that stopped
The confidence of the dawn.

Days when beloved faces shone brighter
With light from beyond themselves;
And from the granite of some secret sorrow
A stream of buried tears loosened.

We bless this year for all we learned,
For all we loved and lost
And for the quiet way it brought us
Nearer to our invisible destination.
~John O’Donohue “At the End of the Year” from To Bless The Space Between 

Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
to be understood.

How grass can be nourishing in the
mouths of the lambs.

How rivers and stones are forever
in allegiance with gravity,
while we ourselves dream of rising.

How two hands touch and the bonds will
never be broken.

How people come, from delight or the
scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.

Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.

Let me keep company always with those who say
“Look!” And laugh in astonishment
and bow their heads.
~Mary Oliver “Mysteries, Yes” from Evidence: Poems

Each day, for nearly twenty years,
I break off a grain of hope
from these dirt-covered, humble roots
I have dug up to share.

I hand off a grain of hope to you here,
as it will grow through your nurture,
a tiny marvel you break off someday
to hand on to someone else.

Together we can grow a garden of

delight despite damage,
grace despite grief,
wonder despite weeping,
contentment despite conflict,
singing despite sadness,
astonishment despite apathy,
beauty despite brokenness.

Together, we look together and laugh with joy.
Together, we clasp hands and join the journey.
Together, we just might save the world.