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 chilliest land
And on the strangest Sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
~ Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
Sometimes, even in the darkest of times, I thank God that I have hope that things will get better, even if that hope is very small at times. Sometimes, in the moments when it is small, I like to think it is like a smoldering fire - still there, not completely gone.
Waiting. Waiting for oxygen. Waiting to come alive again.
I miss when life used to be simple. When best friends & parents didn't die. When friends were still in your life, regardless of the circumstances. When starting a family seemed not only obtainable, but realistic.
I do not know how I got out of blogging, something I have always loved. Or why I shied away from sharing my heart openly, something I so desperately want to do. All I know is my life is different now.
And everything fell apart. And I lost me. I stopped everything I enjoyed so that I could survive. Clinging to my faith & clinging to hope where I found it.
I do not know what's in the future for me. All I know is what I have been through & where I have been. And right now, I hold out for hope. And I pray that it remains alive & perched within my soul.