The genealogy of change

We don’t always know
If our lives are counting for something.
If our writings are being read
If our contributions are making a difference
Whether the causes we’re fighting so hard for
Will amount to anything,
But what is a ripple in our generation
May become a tidal wave
For our descendants,
And the hurricanes of our times
May hardly be a whisper
A few years from now.
Change is not our servant,
It does not stand at attention
When we call for it,
And we may not even recognize it
When it comes.
But change will come
Like a child unborn
We’ve dreamed of meeting,
Like a promised sunrise
Just before the dawn.

But for now,
All we have for sure
Is the work in our hands to do,
Trusting that when it is done
Change will come after all.

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