Hope

Hope is the Thing with Feathers

by: Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

This is my favorite poem. Some people that know me, know that I recently am attached to anything to do birds (It's not a coincidence that they are on the top right of my page).  I love birds on my jewelry, in photographs, in paintings, because a while back I heard this poem and it just clicked. The reason I'm fascinated by birds is because they represent Hope to me.  The basis of this poem is that Hope lives in our soul, it speaks to us. Hope keeps us safe and warm and Hope never asks anything of us in return. So, I just wanted to share this poem and maybe it will bring comfort to you as it does to me. There is also a song I love by Idina Menzel called Hope that is very similar to this poem, here is a link to listen, hope you enjoy it. http://vimeo.com/3290847
Have a blessed week!