Hope


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Hope. The air is full of it! I can smell its parfume everywhere, I can see it in people eyes. Hope. We live hoping. Since we are just a little being in our mother’s body, hope accompanies us. “I hope my baby will be healthy”, “I hope he will be a nice little boy” are some phrases we heard when we are still in the warm, wet refugee of the maternal venter. As soon as we see the light, someone start hoping something for us “Let’s hope he’ll be a wise boy/girl”… and so on. I could write an entire book about what parents expect from their sons and daughters….

Growing up, we start hoping: “I hope to be invited by that nice guy, one day”. We hope to be loved, to be happy and successful… and so on. At last, when we are at the end of our journey on this material world, we hope there is something else after we close our eyes definitively. We hope life will continue as we hardly could accept the idea to become just dust and nothing else. But, what would be our life without hope? I don’t think there could not be an acceptable life without hope. Hopeless are desperate or, anyway, unhappy.

Hope. What a wonderful word.  There is a world in it. According to the english dictionary, hope means to have a wish to have or do something or for something to happen or be true, especially something that seems possible or likely.

Well, I hope to be a good parent and to don’t make too much mistakes. I hope my children will be healthy and someday they won’t say I made them feel unhappy. I hope to wake up someday and found a better world… What is your hope?🙂

I found a lovely poem by Emily Dickinson, wonderful american poet lived in the XIX century. She wrote about nature and human feelings. I’ve found a poem about hope, written in her brilliant, unconventional (for her time) style.

HOPE by Emily Dickinson

“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 Poems Book Cover

Image via Wikipedia

At last, I really hope I haven’t bored you too much!🙂

Rosa

9 thoughts on “Hope

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