Dialogue with Emily

 

source

“Hope is the thing with feathers”

the poet said long ago,

but what would she say

now the world is framed

so feathered things have

no place left to go? 

 

She said hope “perches in the soul—

And sings the tune without the words—

And never stops—at all—“

Yet here we are at never—

searching with our souls for tunes

to fill our hearts with words.

 

The gale destroys, the chill freezes;

and life—wild and tame—loses its grip.

We are ready to bypass guilt

so to undo harm, to midwife

what will emerge, and to love

our efforts as life itself.

 

Stay with us, dear little one—warm

us up and cool us down with your

wordless songs.  We'll learn

your tune, we’ll spend our lives

using less, befriending more

defending you to our last breath.

 

for earthweal weekly challenge: IN THE WAKE OF PROGRESS

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright.

© 2022 Susan L. Chast

* Thinking of a mythological phoenix rising, but I wanted to find one with a chickadee or another small bird. 

“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.