An offering from Stephanie Wood, Curate at St John's - Emily Dickinson's "Hope is the thing with feathers" with this reflection:
I had this pasted in my high school locker in grade 11 after my first horse, Trishy, died. My best friend offered it to me in the midst of my grief. While I continued to cry for days after she died, every time I opened my locker and saw the word “Hope”, I knew eventually my grief would lessen and good memories would abound.
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.