 Human beings suffer. They torture one another. They get hurt and get hard. No poem or play or song can fully write a wrong inflicted and endured. The innocent in jails beat on their bars together. A hunger striker's father stands in the graveyard, dumb. The police widow unveils faints at the funeral home. History says, don't hope on this side of the grave. But then, once in a lifetime, the longed-for tidal wave of justice can rise up and hope and history rhyme. So hope for a great sea change on the far side of revenge. Believe that a further shore is reachable from here. Believe in miracles and cures and healing wells. Call miracle self-healing, the utter self-revealing double-take of feeling. If there's fire on the mountain or lightning and storm and a god speaks from the sky, that means someone is hearing the outcry and the birth cry of new life at its term. It means once in a lifetime that justice can rise up and hope and history rhyme.