#caitlin seida

[cloudswamp]

hope is a sewer rat, caitlin seida

[leermeer]

[nuggsmum]

Hope Is Not a Bird, Emily, It’s a Sewer Rat

by Caitlin Seida

Hope is not the thing with feathers

That comes home to roost

When you need it most.

Hope is an ugly thing

With teeth and claws and

Patchy fur that’s seen some shit.

It’s what thrives in the discards

And survives in the ugliest parts of our world,

Able to find a way to go on

When nothing else can even find a way in.

It’s the gritty, nasty little carrier of such

diseases as

optimism, persistence,

Perseverance and joy,

Transmissible as it drags its tail across

your path

and

bites you in the ass.

Hope is not some delicate, beautiful bird,

Emily.

It’s a lowly little sewer rat

That snorts pesticides like they were

Lines of coke and still

Shows up on time to work the next day

Looking no worse for wear.

[cottagecore-zenith]

The poem keeping me sane right now.

From My Broken Voice by Caitlin Seida. Bookshop link here

[walkawaytall]

Hope Is Not a Bird, Emily, It’s a Sewer Rat

by Caitlin Seida

Hope is not the thing with feathers That comes home to roost When you need it most. Hope is an ugly thing With teeth and claws and Patchy fur that’s seen some shit. It’s what thrives in the discards And survives in the ugliest parts of our world, Able to find a way to go on When nothing else can even find a way in.

It’s the gritty, nasty little carrier of such diseases as optimism, persistence, Perseverance and joy, Transmissible as it drags its tail across your path and  bites you in the ass.

Hope is not some delicate, beautiful bird, Emily. It’s a lowly little sewer rat That snorts pesticides like they were Lines of coke and still Shows up on time to work the next day Looking no worse for wear.

*****

(who's Emily? Well, Dickinson of course)

*****

“Hope” is the thing with feathers

By Emily Dickinson

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.

*****

[willow0wisp]

Hope Is Not a Bird, Emily, It’s a Sewer Rat

by Caitlin Seida

Hope is not the thing with feathers That comes home to roost When you need it most. Hope is an ugly thing With teeth and claws and Patchy fur that’s seen some shit. It’s what thrives in the discards And survives in the ugliest parts of our world, Able to find a way to go on When nothing else can even find a way in.

It’s the gritty, nasty little carrier of such diseases as optimism, persistence, Perseverance and joy, Transmissible as it drags its tail across your path and bites you in the ass.

Hope is not some delicate, beautiful bird, Emily. It’s a lowly little sewer rat That snorts pesticides like they were Lines of coke and still Shows up on time to work the next day Looking no worse for wear.

[tartsdmegazaprot]

[sunriseantebellum]

“the kind of animal hope is”

maybe hope is the thing with feathers or a sewer rat instead. maybe it is a swarm of worker ants, or a pack of stray dogs, or whatever animal you feel is best to deliver a metaphor that serves whatever purpose hope needs to fill at that moment.

all i know is hope has strength in numbers and is nothing without action. hope is a radical and conscious choice; it is rebellion, it is a movement, it is a force that cannot be stolen. hope is what you find at the bottom— you are allowed to cry on your way to it as long as you keep it alive.

hope can be delicate or it can be resilient. it can be beautiful or it can be bloody. it can be a song or it can be a sickness. it can be the thing that gives without asking or it can be the only thing left to take— it all depends on why you need it. but when all is said and done, we know the kind of animal hope is: human.

— j.a.