Hope Offers no Advice
- Linda Geraghty
- Oct 6
- 5 min read
People suffer. That is part of the human experience. According to Buddha, though, suffering is optional, and we have control over how we respond to what life throws at us. But I’m sorry, as much as this can make sense when sorting it out in the brain, it doesn’t. Although life is impermanent, it is in our nature to want to hold onto the people and circumstances we love, and when they are ripped from our hearts; in those times, “comfort” words like, “God gives you only what you can handle” and “There’s always hope” become cruel fallacies. It’s just that some losses don’t make sense and can’t be phrased away with things like, “But look at you, after all you have been through Your doing it!” Doing what? I want to say. Waking up, machining my way through the day, taking meat out of the freezer, with the intention of making a meal I probably won’t. Or putting a load of wash on, that I will wash again in two days, because I forgot to switch them over into the dryer, and now they smell musty. Is that what “they” mean by “handling it? Still alive in flesh? Because I used to believe those phrases, until this life gutted me into a broken and empty shell, and now I find one of the few comforts I have is to write it out of me. Emily Dickenson, after experiencing great loss, wrote many poems that refer to the type of deep grief that causes one to question their relationship with hope.
Dickinson’s poem “Hope is the thing with feathers” is a powerful meditation on the way hope persists on being felt, even when we don’t ask for it. She turns hope into something that is alive, a bird that never gives up, no matter how deep and difficult circumstances become, and no matter how saddened we are by them. Even though this poem was written over 150 years ago, it resonates today. In this post, I will walk through the poem line by line, share my thoughts and annotations, and reflect on the reasons why Dickinson’s poetry is still relatable and revered so many years later.
“Hope is the thing with Feathers” By Emily Dickinson (Annotations)
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
“Hope” here is “the thing with feathers.” Dickenson does not say “A bird.” It is an insult to call anyone other than their given name unless it is a term of endearment. Dickinson’s choice to call Hope a “thing” other than its name, it the opposite of a term of endearment. It is a double insult. 1. Not calling someone by their given name, and 2. Calling someone a “thing” other than what it is.
That perches in the soul –
Going with the idea that this poem is an insult to hope, and then continuing that theme, “Perching in the soul,” is an annoyance, and not a comfort.
And sings the tune without the words –
No words are spoken for comfort and inspiration. Hope does not promise anything with explanation. It just sits there taking up space in the soul. The tune is the need for it to exist, because without it, what is there to look forward to?
And never stops - at all -
This break, “stops-at all” when spoken sounds like a roll of the eyes. Like this thing with feathers just won’t leave me alone.
And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard –
But hope serves a purpose. When life gets mixed up and confusing, that tune is comfort, even though it is not telling you that it will be OK. Just its presence is company for the soul in challenging times.
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -
The tune of hope cannot be heard when life becomes intolerable. When grief of a loss. When there is no way of fixing it, or bringing someone back to life, hope is gone. It is in the death of a loved one, that hope no longer matters.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.
Dickinson is saying here that when life was cold, strange, and unknown, she could still hear the tune of the “thing with feathers.” But when it came to extreme difficulties that cannot be reversed, (loved ones cannot come back from the dead), then even the relentless “thing with feathers”, planted in the soul, recognizes that in some horrible events of life, to not ask to perch in the soul and say nothing, and in singing no tune and taking up no space, one can rest in their own soul with grief.
Literary Devices
Metaphor: Emily Dickinson uses an extended metaphor, linking hope with the “thing with feathers.” She uses this metaphor throughout the entire poem.
Personification: Hope “sings” and “Perches,” giving it human qualities and bringing it to life.
Imagery: Storms, in the gale the tune can still be heard
Theme: The dual nature of hope.
Modern Popularity
Even though Emily Dickinson wrote her poetry over 150 years ago, it’s easy to see why people today are still drawn to her work. Her struggles and joys shine through her unfiltered honesty, resonating across centuries. This makes her life and work perfectly adaptable to today’s art on the screen. Emily wrote what so many of us think and feel, but don’t often say. She did not write heartwarming and feel-good poetry for the masses. She wrote it for herself, which is why modern adaptations like the Apple TV+ series Dickinson work so well. Although the show takes liberty with her life, creating storylines that were not always true, the essence of Emily is what the series producers were looking to capture; her unconventional, rebellious, and independent spirit, all of which still matter in today’s world.
Like Emily Dickinson, I have contemplated and rolled hope around in my pocket trying to make sense of it. I have wrestled with it, and tried to break up with it several times, but it would not leave me alone. And I always found myself needing it. Hope knows we need it to get through life. We need to know that no matter how hard things get, it is there perched in our souls. So many of us need it more than ever to just get up in the morning. It forces a smile on a face masking fears and pain. Hope is a good thing to have, but it comes at a cost. We let hope sit inside of us, tweeting a tune without instructions. We are asked to trust that it is there, and to hold onto it like a talisman, rubbing it like a lamp, knowing that no matter how difficult life gets, we have hope. But hope can’t always deliver what we expect from it. “And sore must be the storm –That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm.”
Suffering may be optional, but in some cases, when what we have hoped for is lost and that loss is too much to bear, the only option is to suffer and let hope find another soul to perch inside, until again, hope finds an opening, and without inviting it in you hum its tune.
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