I saw "The Annual Migration of Clouds" by Premee Mohamed described as "hopepunk." Sure, but it is also has rage. A justified and righteous anger that is not so subtle. I'm not sure there is enough of that in post-apocalyptic stories. This passage sums it up:

"As we mine out the landfills (at least they left us a lot of plastic to reuse; that was thoughtful) and burrow into basements and archives seeking the books that our ancestors did not burn to survive the winters, you feel it sometimes, rage filling you like an updraft of hot air from a fire, lifting you from the shoulders or blowing through like a tornado -- rage that we missed it, missed it all, and rage at those who got to have it in the specific way that took it from us."

That last bit? Says it all.