With Apologies To Emily Dickinson

img_0822Hope is a thing with feathers, “ she said,

However, I am not so sure

I carry my hope piggyback style

And the weight’s a chore to endure.


My hungry hope eats everything

It’s the least picky eater I know

So carrying it around all day

It has nothing to do but grow.


Sometimes it gets too heavy for me

And I drag it by the feet

At times I rest with my head on its chest

Other times, I’ll admit my defeat


While carrying Hope around all day

It burns a hole and sears

It scratches at your sanity

And it preys on your worst fears


Hope’s words are dipped in poison

On every inch there is a thorn

But if you swallow every word of Hope’s

Your passion is reborn


Hope is not a thing with feathers.

Dickinson was wrong

I’ve waited

and waited

and waited

I’ve waited for so long.


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