Into The Jungle
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.
Last weekend I travelled to Calais with a group of 6 friends to volunteer and help the refugees in ‘The Jungle’. Hope was one of a number of emotions that I did not expect to feel or encounter in my time there.