I’ve shared this poem before, one I penned a couple of years ago as my own take on hope after reflecting on Emily Dickinson’s “Hope is the Thing with Feathers”. It seems that the euphoria *and* the pain of hope are recurring themes in my life, and sharing this poem again only serves to echo that cycle. Perhaps you can relate?
Hope refuses to perch
as if she had arrived for only a visit,
like so many flitting wings
on the branches of a bloodwood tree,
weaving instead feathers from her breast
into the fabric of my soul.
Her fussing brings pain,
reminding me of a presence I’ve tried
to ignore, preferring instead
a familiar landscape of barren desert,
averting my eyes from the want within,
growing as if shielded from sun, protected
from possibilities until they would
weigh my branches with promise.
But hope, feathered hope, is already here,
nestled so sweetly for laying,
and I await with the pain
–Kristy Dempsey (2007, all rights reserved)
ETA: Oh! I forgot to say that ME WITH YOU is the Poetry Friday Picture Book of the Day over at Anastasia Suen’s six traits blog!