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Today marks the last day of National Suicide Prevention Week.  I have lost people to suicide, and I have danced around the edge of the darkness, but that’s not what I want to talk about today.

Today is a day of Hope.

HOPE.

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.

Retrieved from Three Series, Complete, by Emily Dickinson www.gutenberg.org/files/12242/12242-h/12242-h.htm

Jessica Fortunato, author of The Sin Collector series, has spent the week advocating and raising awareness, and today she’s collected messages of hope from myself and other writers. 

Read the messages, share your own thoughts, and spread the word.  Today, we celebrate Hope even in the face of darkness.

 

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