Six Short Words 8 April 2008

While too woo-woo (?) for official inspection, I spied these winning words on a resume today:

“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 chilliest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.” – Emily Dickinson

I’m a big fan of hope & calling a crumb a crumb so couldn’t resist its charms. In an ironic twist, I’m posting a poem rather than heading off to workshop my own stuff tonight. I feel called, instead, to mind my memoir again.

On this, the eve of my 4-year-cancer-diagnosis-day anniversary, I feel closer to knowing what I want to say. Here are six words I sent to SMITH to start me on my way:

“Here to wake up the world.”