The Second Time

39

"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

****

In Answer to "Hope is the thing with feathers"

"Hope" is a thing with feathers

That claws a nest into your soul

It screams blank words without a tune

And always haunts us all.

Forever in the Storm is heard

The Gale left and forgotten

Hope is not a little bird —

Rather, pain that's naught but rotten.

It's left me in the chillest land

Drowns me in the strangest sea —

And all it does is take and drain

And ask too much of me.