Hope, Said Emily

Hope, said Emily,
is the thing with feathers
and she was right, but not
in the way you think —

Hope is in fact the thing
with a torch and a sword
fighting for you in dark swamps
and reeking bogs. Standing between you
and the cop’s headlights.
Laying a hand on your shoulder
as you tremble near the railing of a bridge. 

The feathers Hope carries
are yours. After such battles,
Hope pulls them from
a bag where they’ve been kept
for you.

Hope puts them carefully
back into place upon you: trophies
for valor doing double duty
in your wings.

Hope says: fly.
I will hold you up,
will bring you home 

if you fall. Fly.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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