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 -
Gosh- I love this one! Her descriptions of the evolution of thought as a funeral service...after reading more and more of her biographical accounts, they say that this really defined how Emily wrote poetry. She often had numerous different options for the different lines and phrases and direction that she wanted to take in each poem written off to the side of the margins...creating her own procession of Reason and Space to decide. We often think of Funerals from a place of loss...but in her case, it sounds more like a rebirth to me. One thought ultimately dying so that another can takes it place. I continue to be enthralled with her work.
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