"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.
I needed to make this tonight. And thank God that I was able to find and successfully upload this image of a painting Sarah made in high school inspired by this Emily Dickinson poem.
I could have cut and pasted it.
But I needed to type it.
I needed to experience each letter of each word. Part of me is happy it is a short poem. And part of me is sad that it doesn't have more words for me to type. But the meaning is there and it is as powerful as I remembered and needed it to be.
Thank you Emily for this hope. And thank you Sarah for adding your vision and yourself to my relationship with it. May I memorize this poem to use in future prayer.
