Hope
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
I adore this poem. I enjoy the idea that when you read a poem, you must be aware that you potentially reading a million different poems, depending on how each person interprets it. I could read this poem 20 times a day and Im sure I would have something else stick out to me each and every time. Isn't that beautiful? That's why I love poetry so much; it never gets old, because it can't! It simply can't.
Why do I love this poem....well.....Tonight I love this poem because of how I read it in this moment. She uses the word thing for hope because it is endless in meaning. If you were to give it an actual name, it would have an end of description. If you call it a "thing", it is endless for description sake. Is there really an end to describing a "thing"? We don't even know how to start.....well...I don't at least, but I think that is the point of calling it that. It sings in our hearts without actually saying words or making a sound since we never really hear the hope we have deep in our hearts. Its just....there, and we can feel it, and since we are the ones that feel it, only a storm can ruin it, one of anger, frustration, self doubt....whatever you may be feeling at that moment. We silence it. It is so fragile because it is without words and so it is easily silenced by our self doubt. The good thing about a thing with feathers, though, is it can always fly on its own, whether or not we even pay attention to it, so while we are thinking we have lost all hope, we really haven't....its still there, waiting for us to create another branch to perch on, but it never leaves us entirely. We use it when its there, curse it when we feel like its gone, have seen it in our darkest times of life and while we have never smiled so much in a day while looking into the eyes of the person we love the most in this world.....yet, it never asks anything more of us than to just let it be with us. It is us who choose to not feel it if we need it the most. We cannot end it, but we definitely create it since that is when we see it, we can always feel its warmth.......if only we didn't allow ourselves to get too cold to notice it.
See what I mean? You may think "WHAT is she talking about this poem means something totally different." That is fantastic, I enjoy the thought that someone has a different interpretation of this poem that I can read and think "Yes, I see that!" Its interesting.
People are like poetry. I love to people watch, creeper-ish as it may sound, its not. I love looking at a person and thinking "Who are they"? I look at their clothes and come up with one opinion of them. Then I watch their face as they are sitting alone and can tell their mood. I watch as a woman walks up to greet this person and his face lights up from the glum mood he was before. He loves her, that is evident. She leaves again and he is contemplative, and the way he holds his body as he sits shows me he is mentally exhausted since his back sits higher than the rest of his body as if he is holding is much-too-heavy and filled mind up with all frustration in the gut of his midsection as he thinks. As he gets up and takes one last sip of his coffee before leaving I know he has a good outlook on life as he takes a minute to remind himself to breathe. That is the psychologist in me. I love it.
Had a person been sitting next to me, they probably would have come up with a totally different explanation and description of him. This is why we need not care how we show ourselves to the world because different people may see right through to our core while others only look as far as our clothing or our eyes, which are typically gaurded to the highest degree. Yet at the same time we want to show others what we are,so we put on a front. We put on a fake smile, we put on all this extra veiling to mask what we truly are. If you want to know how you truly are as a person, take a photo when you least expect it. Look at your eyes, and the true story of your being will be there, I guarantee this.
This is the last part of a person that I look at because it gives me all the answers I need, and sometimes Im not ready for that. Your story is in your eyes, so when you walk down the street avoiding the stares of people, all this hard work you are doing to create this persona is completely worthless because you're hiding your true self.
I have been informed on multiple occassions that I make people uncomfortable when I stare into their eyes. I am not ashamed to show what is in my eyes, im sure there is a lot of anger, pain, grudge, and other negative items. But, I hope that people also see love, kindness, a readiness to hurt for people and with people, and the eyes of God if they need to see it.
Take any random photo of yourself and cover up the mouth, the nose and the cheeks and stare at the eyes. What do you see? Is it who you try to be or do you see someone different, someone much separate from what you think others view.
We are living poetry and have every opportunity to be perceived as whatever we would like, but our eyes are the text version of that poetry that remain constant and bring us back to the main portion of our being.
I can only hope I'm showing who I want to show within my eyes when I stare at people.
I wonder if people can see all the things I try to hide, which makes me wonder why I do this to people so much, but I don't care. I want to be what they need to see at that moment, much like what I need my poetry to be at the very moments I struggle.
What a ramble, but it was fun.
Love as if it had no restraints-
Hana
