“‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers –

that perches in the soul –

And sings the tune without the words –

And never stops – at all -”


I have a dark, empty void instead,

not a small and cheerful bird –

but if I tell people my hope is gone,

they’ll tell me I’m being absurd.


Hope is a foreign concept,

but I know I need to survive –

so I’ve learned to borrow others’,

for the sake of staying alive.


(Poem quoted in the beginning is “Hope is the Thing with Feathers” by Emily Dickinson. Photo courtesy of Google Images.)