Hope Is

Hope is the thing with … barbed wire.

Hope definitely doesn’t have FEATHERS, all fluttery and light, although it might if a circus clown like Emmett Kelly is trying to sweep up a spotlight with a feather, making us feel sad at his seemingly impossible task. I want something solid.

Hope is a great stone mountain that doesn’t move. It’s the bright North Star in the night sky that I know will always be there, even if I can’t see it because of the clouds.

Hope is barbed wire because just when I think I’m done with life, that nothing is left and I’m about to take my leave, hope snags my flesh and pulls me back. Or, if you prefer a less painful image, when we leap from a bridge, hope is the bungee cord that stops us from smashing on the rocks below. Maybe something will happen that I can’t anticipate, something that I don’t even realize is possible. It’s not like I know everything that goes on in the Milky Way. I’ve been gobsmacked by surprises in the past, and I’m willing to be smacked again.

It was Emily Dickinson who wrote the line ‑ “Hope is the thing with feathers.” I had been focused on the feathers, but when I read the entire poem, I discovered its context. Dickinson isn’t speaking about the feathers as much as she is speaking about the THING that has feathers, and the thing is the bird that continues to sing even in the onslaught of a storm when its song can barely be heard through the blustering wind and driving rain.

When we have cancer, we carry hope in our heart’s cage. It’s what we feel when we hear the voices of children singing, what we see in the eyes of physicians and nurses as they care for the sick, and what we feel in the touch of a friend’s hand on our shoulder after a hard day of being battered about by our treatments.

Having hope in a time of struggle may not change anything medical, yet hope is what gets us through the rough times when our confidence has been shredded by the ongoing mental trauma, when some of our friends desert us because they are tired of hearing about our cancer and they have their own problems to take care of. Having hope is what spurs us to keep trying. Hope reminds us to hang on because, just maybe ….

Hope is not tied to what goes on in this world. It is neither reduced nor expanded by the world’s problems or celebrations. It is never used up. It endures. Hope is a conviction. It’s more than a wish when I say, “I hope you have a good day.” Because I mean GOOD in the sense of something happening, even if it’s small, that will leave a warm glow in your chest and a bounce in your step.

For two years my radiologist and oncologist have denied that their radiation or anti-hormone drugs could have caused the gluten sensitivity that left me unable to eat bread, pie, cookies, or pasta. Then cancer dietician Sydney said that she had heard of this happening and had an idea. She gave me hope, and her idea worked.

Sometimes hope is the only thing that keeps us tethered here. By not giving up at something that seems insurmountable, Emmett Kelly does the impossible. He sweeps up the spotlight and takes it home with him.

Be the bird singing in the storm.

© 2025 Mark Liebenow