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
MJ, you are so embedded in my thoughts lately, and I don’t know why. May you get your redemption soon. That is what I hope.
With MJ’s permission, I will tell his story someday.
I cried.
I do love that film.