Contestants were asked to write poems inspired by the words “hope” and “perseverance.” Here are the winning entries, selected by our anonymous judge, now revealed as Kathy Henderson Thanks to all who competed. The three winning poems appear below.

 

FIRST PLACE

Shirley Campbell

 

Oscar at the Park 

Stumbling through lumpy sand

straight to the net,

iron chain hanging in loose squares, 

ship’s rigging to a pre-school pirate.

Nearly too big for his arms stretched wide,

 

Heaving himself up from the lowest rung,

puffing quietly, straining for the second, then the third, 

his foot at a fish-hook slant against the chain,

knee jack-knifing toward his chin, 

new muscles reshaping his calves.

A sneaker half twisted off, planning to drop.

 

The last step, the deck the net hangs from,

almost too far a reach for taut legs. 

Foot hooked round an iron post,

gripped tight by clenched hands

he levers his whole body up,

hauls himself over the platform’s edge,

stands up triumphant. And laughs out loud.

 

 

SECOND PLACE

Lynn Slifer

 

Annette Practices the Violin

Minneapolis, winter 2026

You sit in the glare of the kitchen light, plodding

through scales, marking your bowing; only

then do you play through the second violin part

 

of Dvorak’s Sixth Symphony. An oddly

naked burst of cascading notes without

the other parts. The world outside is overrun

 

with cruelty and separation

and loss, while you plot the notes

you can skip, which notes

 

are critical, when you can readjust

the chinrest. Five-year olds are taken

from schools in the world outside

 

and protesters are shot, while in your kitchen

your foot keeps pace with the furious

scherzo movement. Outside, sidewalks

 

slippery with icy lies; the sky oppressive,

unyielding. But you, my friend,

in the frenzy of the final movement,

 

allegro con spirito, you resist—you hold

terror at bay with the stab

 

of your bow, with the relentless

pounding of your foot, with the force

 

of your conviction.

 

 

 

THIRD PLACE

Susan McClellan

 

Hope is a Quiet Knock

Hope is a quiet knock

on the door you forgot was there.

 

It does not shout.

It arrives like silence at dawn

in the depth of the night,

soft enough to be missed,

strong enough to stay.

 

When the heart is a broken cup,

hope is good –

something that can be poured through you.

 

Do not ask hope for proof.

It speaks in seeds,

not in harvests.

 

It asks you to trust the dark soil,

to believe the troubled know

how to rise.

Despair is a teacher,

it clears the room

so hope has space to dance.

 

Listen:

every breath you take

is a vow to continue.

Every wound is a door

where light practices entering with a beam.

 

Turn your face to the smallest warmth.

The way forward is not a road—

it is a memory of knowing

that you were never separate

from the light.