Light as a feather

My mom gave me a lovely collection of Emily Dickinson's poems years back. At the time, I hadn't read Emily's work for ages (since being scarred by the whole 'you can sing all her poetry to The Yellow Rose of Texas' revelation).

Anyhoo, that edition, which had a bright yellow flower on the cover, is one I think of from time to time. I thought of it - and its optimistic cover - this morning, when talking to someone who's coping with physical pain, facing an operation; someone with a clear sense that life's going to have more than its share of difficulties for a time.

  Hope is the Thing with Feathers

  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

And Emily's hope led me on to Thich Nhat Hanh:

Hope is important because it can make the present moment less difficult to bear. If we believe that tomorrow will be better, we can bear a hardship today.