Her Voice

We breath the same air-

Our minds meet-

Simple moments-

Relevant moments-

She lifts the Hope within my heart-

Her small feet, dangling in the air-

And yet, stronger than all mountains-

She builds me up, for I long to be-

Who I am-

Just me.

We breath the same air-

And yet …. It is-

Her Voice-

Her Song-

Her Smile-

That becomes mine.

Emily Dickinson wrote the following poem in 1862. I feel she must have been low and alone and the soft flutter of her heart came forward, chirped within her and made her smile again … tickled her mind to sing these words for us all.

Such meaning to all who read her.


“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 crump – of me.


Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886)

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