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 –

-          Emily Dickinson

You may recognise the words above, as the first stanza of a poem by Emily Dickinson, which is often quoted and used in inspirational posters, etc. You can watch and listen to a animated musical setting of this poem by Christopher Tin here.

As we move into the winter season in the Northern hemisphere we may be finding the darker, shorter days in tune with concern and despair about matters that trouble us. It might be the presidential election in the United States or ongoing warfare and conflict in Ukraine, the Middle East and Sudan, or something that troubles us closer to home. This poem might lift us up or feel a long way from our experience.

·         How do you find hope in troubled times?

·         What tune might hope sing in your soul?

The Hebrew scriptures often speak of the hope that God promises:

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Jeremiah 29:11

The New Testament scriptures offer assurance that hope is now available to us, as in this verse from the letter of Paul to the Romans

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope. Romans 15:13

·         Are there texts that speak to you when you lack hope?

I love this poem by Lisel Mueller, that reminds us of the indestructible nature of hope that we can see in the smallest signs.

Hope

It hovers in dark corners
before the lights are turned on,
it shakes sleep from its eyes
and drops from mushroom gills,
it explodes in the starry heads
of dandelions turned sages,
it sticks to the wings of green angels
that sail from the tops of maples.

It sprouts in each occluded eye
of the many-eyed potato,
it lives in each earthworm segment
surviving cruelty,
it is the motion that runs the tail of a dog,
it is the mouth that inflates the lungs
of the child that has just been born.

It is the singular gift
we cannot destroy in ourselves,
the argument that refutes death,
the genius that invents the future,
all we know of God.

It is the serum which makes us swear
not to betray one another;
it is in this poem, trying to speak.