As I face my computer screen to write this month’s Blog post, my mind and heart are filled with the heartbreaking images of so many who have been affected by the recent Hurricane Helene and its path of destruction from Florida through my home state of North Carolina and up into Virginia. Our beloved mountain region is totally devastated. It breaks my heart seeing pictures of places I’ve loved to visit, the arts-centered town of Asheville, in particular.
I am heartened to see how many people have reached out to lend their aid for those in such desperate situations, and that gives me hope. Please consider sending a donation or help in any way you see best.
Hope is what we must all hold onto, and I’m reminded of Carl Sandburg’s 1936 poem, “Hope is a Tattered Flag,” as well as one of my favorite poems by the beloved, 19th century poet, Emily Dickinson, “Hope” is the thing with feathers”.
Hope is a Tattered Flag
Carl Sandburg
Hope is a tattered flag and a dream of time.
Hope is a heartspun word, the rainbow, the shadblow in white
The evening star inviolable over the coal mines,
The shimmer of northern lights across a bitter winter night,
The blue hills beyond the smoke of the steel works,
The birds who go on singing to their mates in peace, war, peace,
The ten-cent crocus bulb blooming in a used-car salesroom,
The horseshoe over the door, the luckpiece in the pocket,
The kiss and the comforting laugh and resolve—
Hope is an echo, hope ties itself yonder, yonder.
The spring grass showing itself where least expected,
The rolling fluff of white clouds on a changeable sky,
The broadcast of strings from Japan, bells from Moscow,
Of the voice of the prime minister of Sweden carried
Across the sea in behalf of a world family of nations
And children singing chorals of the Christ child
And Bach being broadcast from Bethlehem, Pennsylvania
And tall skyscrapers practically empty of tenants
And the hands of strong men groping for handholds
And the Salvation Army singing God loves us….
Hope is the thing with feathers
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.
Do what you can to spread some hope into the world.
Take care, my friends,
Kathryn
Love these poems and poets, Kate.
They are a true inspiration!