Hope

I think this poem presents a beautiful and heartwarming image, but in my opinion hope does in fact stop when you need it most, like a bird that sits in your hand only so long as you have seeds to feed it. There are times, certainly, when it seems to sing, but most of the time it does not, leaving the nest in one’s soul feeling pitifully empty. Even when it does come, its singing is not always the best guidance to get us through the storm—sometimes hope can be a mirage, a siren’s song pulling us further into the depths, causing the real world to seem worse for failing to live up to our sparkling ideals. Hope can make us complacent, leaving our fate in the hands of a universe that doesn’t seem to care, and it can trap us in circumstances that we ought to escape—maybe next time it’ll be different, we think, and do nothing, and we’re surprised when it never is. Of course, our society does seem to prefer unrealistic positivity to taking advantage of life as it is, and I will admit that for some people this strategy seems to work just fine. It’s a beautiful fantasy, and one so ingrained in human nature that it feels like it must be true—but we all face a time at some point in our lives when we realize that it’s not, and it is in these times, when we find ourselves truly without hope, that we become the people we’ve always wanted to be. In my opinion, true strength comes from rejecting hope, and realizing that, while there's a good chance you won't succeed, it’s worth trying nonetheless; because a life without struggle, without darkness, without pain is hardly one at all.