Tuesday, 4 November 2008

The thing with feathers....

As Emily Dickinson says, is Hope.

It's an electric feeling when a day feels like history is being made within it's hours and minutes and seconds. Through the small x marked with a stubby pencil, or how a perforated tab is torn,the world changes.
We can all 'hope' that this will be the start of great things,for individuals,communities and countries.
I remember this same feeling on a balmy May evening back in 97,sitting with friends, meeting strangers, merry with hope and anticipation.There was such optimism and actual joy in the air,I'm sure people were almost dancing down the street. We all quickly asked each other 'have you voted?, have you voted?'and rushed home when the results started to come in. It did feel like a new beginning.I won't dwell on what the hope turned into, for fear of tainting it but that's the glory of now. It is all in the expectation.


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.

Emily Dickinson




We all wait with hope in our soul as the feathered thing takes flight.

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