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 chilliest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
there are days i am fully there;
bubbling and bursting with life,
where conversation feels like
the most natural thing
and my instinct first
is to hug and kiss,
and dance with anyone
who is near and dear,
i am alive and here.
and then there are days like today,
where i begin to drift away
and the words in my head need
all the energy in my body to speak,
i feel weak and distant;
all i want is to retreat to a space,
that is quiet and warm,
where i am alone
and breathing is easy.
it seems as though i am
two opposing beings
vying to live in a single body.
do not know
which version will show,
i am not easy.
i want to be easier. first meeting laughter and conversation.
i want to be heartfelt hugs with strangers. deliberate handshakes.
i want to be soft and sultry, all ‘babe’ and ‘darling’ and ‘what’s cooking good looking?’
i want to be ‘lets do dinner this evening’, last minute plans and ease.
but i am not easy.
i am slow and delicate. words on a text message checked three times before sending.
i am anxious, replaying conversations. over and over.
and i am faultering.
all: ‘hey…um… are you busy? i..err… was gonna go and do something. but you don’t have to if you don’t want to…’
i am all heaviness and weight. all dragging my being through life.
i want to be easy. i want to float through life. light and air.
love and grace.
i want to be easy."