There is Hope Yet

A poem by Achuthan Panikath

Mon Jul 27 2026

On these white rocks where the seagulls sing,
where dogs forget their masters for another minute in the seas,
where waters hold the memories of a century
when allies turned traitors, turned allies once more,
we sense hope.

When a limping boy leaps to save a woman's slipper,
when stories get lost in the silence of sheep,
each passing ship, humanity's stake in science,
to bow only in reverence to nature,
we understand hope.

As the smartest of us commit to quiet,
to hear, to think, to learn before we nod,
as the kindest of us extend a helping hand to the bigoted fool,
as the strongest of us shed a tear
for the pain he hears but will never know,
we feel hope.

We are tossing stones that will only ever return as sand,
our laughter nursing the forgotten soreness of distrust,
Now seated in the sinking chairs we've long questioned,
We demand the change that has always been coming.
Somewhere between being the hands that cupped an entire finger
And the finger that points the way,
we became hope.