Hope Is The Thing With Feathers

"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 chilliest land
And on the strangest Sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

~ Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
In this season of life that I find myself in, I am learning a lot about hope.  What it feels like to live without it, & what it feels like to have it.

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.