The drums on the side of the road, the oil ones,
Are filled with something else other than drugs,
Other than love.
They’re filled with guns.

Scribbled that on a sidewall. Anyway.

Give me a moment of your time.
Just one second,
Read that line again.
Just one second.
In one more second, we’ll have an election.
In one more second, a dumpster president.
In one more second, another spike in COVID.
In one more second, an ocean overflowing.
In one more second, bunkering down for safe harbor.
In one more second, another man, a martyr
In one more second, a star shootin’,.
In one more second, the sky is gone, polluted.

See, there’s a thin rope, Liberty, I’m green with envy.
And we sing for our supper, Liberty, but just get cold spaghetti.
The lines in the street are getting longer, Liberty, police lines and others.
Protesting for Liberty the peace sign, and the lives of brothers and mothers.
I can’t breathe, Liberty!
I want to slide on down the avenue, but I can’t get away.
So I sing this song of peace, Liberty, I step into the street.
I put my hands out like two stop signs, Liberty, and say Police the Police.

I want hope in a slingshot, and I want to pierce the heart
of every politician politicking,
thinking that’s all we got, lining pockets in a world gone offset
wondering when we will get the time right
on our watches?

Is my watch broken?


Is my watch broken?


If Hope is the name you want to give it,
the mentality to live, to change things.
to keep the COVID stretchers out of reach and sanitized.

If Hope is the name you give her
when you stare into her eyes for the first time
as she steps into the world finally,
after months of crawling,
learns to play the piano,
Or maybe play violin,
maybe becomes an artist, maybe Erivan, then.

Or maybe she graduates with honors from Harvard.
Freshman year awkward, by senior year on her way to being doctor.

Maybe one day.

Maybe one day she will be one of the many, many who will lead us.
She will be one of the true leaders, but no politician,
a doctor curing diseases, cleaning up the beaches,
striving for a world that provides better mental health than just medication,
striving for a world that she can raise her kids in,
putting in the work with paper and pen to truly make a difference.
Maybe she takes the pen, writes a novel, changes how we look at each other,
magnifies all the problems, solves ‘em, makes our loathers lovers,

But Hope, she doesn’t know it yet, only momma’s baby girl,
a little kid when COVID hit,

just might be
the one
to one day
save the world.

But Hope, she doesn’t know it yet, only momma’s baby girl,
a little kid when COVID hit

who will someday save the world.

Who will someday save this world?


Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly. His latest book is Train of Thought.