"Hope, it's the thing with feathers."
Says someone who doesn't fly
Can you hope without one wing
"I think it's worth a try"
Says someone who doesn't fly
Says someone who doesn't fly
But in between the holding
Of breath
Of sleep
Of time
The human spirit wonders
What's the harm in a lie.
-written April 2023
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I found this poem at the bottom of my backpack this week, scribbled on the back of a receipt from a year ago.
I don't believe in the resurrection, and haven't for some time, but this time last year I prayed for miracles. It wasn't even a question of "will this work," my body moved my knees to the ground every morning and every night, sometimes even at work. Intellectually I conceptualize the narrative of an "empty tomb" as a story of how the powerless will prevail, about love winning. But despite my academic relationship to the easter story I gave into a mysterious wave of hope.
A dear family friend was killed in the louisville shooting April 2023. Unspeakable grief, unfathomable. There is no possible way to put words around the depths of last year's heartache ... and frankly it is not my story to share. Such acute loss changes you forever.
One year later prayers sit 'unanswered.' But gosh it feels good to be honest.
in between all the holding….
thank for letting me share,
mae
You should turn this poem into a song. So heartfelt and deep. So needed in these times! Truly, give it a try (or two or three). I think a song version of this would be such a gift. Happy Easter.
Randomly caught your message in my email. I'd like to think the feeling of hope is an automatic coping mechanism, our mind pushing back against feelings of deep despair that might threaten to keep our thoughts caught in a loop. Thank you for sharing the poem, what a find!