“‘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.)