While i was in Yellowstone and Grand Tetons National Parks i had a lot of time to think and reflect about the world and where i am at in terms of my beliefs and my commitments to humanity. And so this poem surged from the beautiful rides through the park, and finally a few days ago i was able to put it down on paper. Below you will find a very rough draft version of what i believe will be my “next” poem, entitled “a Declaration of Hope”

This poem is a declaration of hope
A song of compassion
And a smile for peace
It is not about guns raised in resistance
This poem is about arms raised in love
So if you came to hear a revolutionary poem
It all depends what you mean by revolution
Cause you will not find this poem in struggle,
This poem does not attend political meetings
Or anti-anything groups.
This poem is not a Black Panther or a Brown Beret
It is not Malcolm X or Che Guevara
Though it is aware and proud of its past
This poem lives in the present
Alive and in action
Changing the world one syllable at a time
And only if it feels like it, does this poem chose to rhyme
Cause this poem has the power to change the world
It is the answer and the question
It is the beginning
And in this moment this poem is EVERYTHING
And everything is a declaration of hope
So if you thought this poem was about hungry African babies
Poverty striken Native tribes,
Or innocence stolen from broken Iraqi children
Then you have come to the wrong place
For this poem does not pity
It does not complain
it does not anger
it does not fear
So you will not find this poem at an anti-war protest
This poem walks for peace
It does not go on hunger strikes
This poem is too creative to starve itself
It does not march against domestic violence
Or burn down corporate offices
It’s too busy building dreams and living consciously
This poem is a declaration of hope
A song for compassion
A smile for peace
A word of praise
It does not raise its fist in anger
It raises its hands in prayer
Cause this poem is tired of reacting
And responding to the ills of the world
This poem is tired of complaining about police brutality
And crying over the women lost in Juarez
Too many tears shed over young men lost to prisons
This poem is sick of arguing against the system
It is done hearing itself talk and talk about injustice
war, war, war, racism, hunger, death, war,
This poem does not want to fight
It does not want to get bloddy and dirty with hate
This poem wants to create
It does not want to spend its time thinking about retaliation
So dont look for this poem at a rally
You will not find it there,
Because this poem is busy using its imagination
This popem is building after school programs
And serving meals at soup kitchens on weekends
This poem is translating for immigrant parents
It is re-defining language, and inventing new words
This poem is busy tutoring little brothers
It is helping little sisters fill out college applications
It is babysitting for the single dad on a Saturday Night
And it is listening to the elder outside the licquor store tell stories of way back when
So dont call on this poem to preach to the choir this evening
Cause it is busy reading Alice Walker
And writing itself into existence.
This poem is learning Arabic and Portuguese
It’s busy laughing with friends
And dancing to Cuban Music
So it cannot come out and complain tonight,
it cannot fill its mouth with rhetoric and thrive for the applause
Cause this poem is busy composting and recycling
It is cycling to the beach
And leading meditation workshops in the Projects
This poem is busy learning about self love
And empowering itself,
It is busy smiling at the sun rising over the horizon
Because every day is a new day
And on new days, this poem gets a chance to start again
A chance to be, the best this poem can be
A creative word for love
A song of compassion
A smile for peace
A word of praise
A declaration of hope.