Hope is the Thing with Feathers

Sun, 22 Feb 2026 00:00:00 +0000

“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.

Still I Rise

Sun, 22 Feb 2026 00:00:00 +0000

You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may tread me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does it upset you That I don’t have enough words? For every slur, every scar Some silver lining to my life? Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries? Just like air, I’ll rise.

Does it disturb you That I dance like I’ve got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs? Just like air, I’ll rise.

Out of the huts of history’s shame I rise With my head held high I am my people’s dream and hope I rise I rise I rise.

Resilience on Poem of the Day

Hope is the Thing with Feathers

Still I Rise