Poetry Sunday

Tomorrow we will celebrate the birthday of American poet Emily Dickinson. Although it's not a great choice of poem for the holiday season, this short piece by Emily Dickinson has always been one of my favorites for its oddly compelling imagery ...

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, (340)

by Emily Dickinson

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading - treading - till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through -

And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum -
Kept beating - beating - till I thought
My mind was going numb -

And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space - began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race,
Wrecked, solitary, here -

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down -
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing - then -


And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again ...

That is eerie, yet compelling imagery, worth thinking about.

Have a good day, and enjoy the rest of your weekend. More thoughts coming.

Bilbo