When despair for the future overwhelms me
And I stare into the present ugliness
In fear of what my grandchildren may never know
And may have to know
I close my eyes and remember 
Remember the prophets and heroes
The flawed women and men
Who rest now in beauty.

I go into the peace of wild people
Of Dolly, Tim, Wendell, and Gloria
Who did not tax their time with despair
Or grief. I remind myself
Of the good trouble they made
And I try to feel above the sordid present
I try to feel my grandchildren’s despair-less
Hope, waiting with their courage
And for a time, I am content.