Hope

 

Photo by Jan Meeus on Unsplash

Hope is a 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 chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

By Emily Dickinson

When I was in my early thirties, with two small children, I used to watch a series on television called 'Thirty Something'. One of my favourite characters was Hope, a young mother who, like me, had been a writer and had experienced miscarriage. I thought at the time what a wonderful, positive and optimistic name she had.

During this year of pandemic, I'm sure it has been hard for some to find any hope. There's evidence that Covid 19 has had a profound effect on some people's mental health. This is the main reason I have tried to keep this blog up to date because I firmly believe in the powerful, healing effect of writing. (If you still need convincing, click here for a Kerstin Pilz's recent TED talk.) Yet, against all the odds, our hope for a vaccine was fulfilled and this week a 90-year-old woman from Coventry became the first person in the world to receive it. 

Emily Dickinson, in her poem (above) reminds us that 'hope' is something that resides within us, even in the darkest of times. I always picture the courageous little bird as a Robin (but I'm probably biased being married to one!). It can withstand anything, even a global pandemic. It lives in our soul and our hearts and can liberate us from despair.

Writing prompt:

• As we come to the end of this strange, unsettling year, what do you now dare to hope for? Write about it. Don't restrict yourself only to things that you think might be possible; give yourself free rein and write about big hopes and small, for yourself personally and for the world.