Emily Dickinson
There’s a certain Slant of light,Winter Afternoons
—That oppresses, like the HeftOf Cathedral Tunes
—Heavenly Hurt, it gives us
—We can find no scar,But internal difference,
Where the Meanings, are
—None may teach it — Any —’Tis the Seal Despair
—An imperial afflictionSent us of the Air
—When it comes, the Landscape listens
—Shadows
— hold their breath
—When it goes, ’tis like the Distance
On the look of Death —
A reader recently requested (how's that alliteration?) for a interpretive summary of Dickinson's poem. For me, the words speak of the search for meaning--the eternal ache that penetrates even the natural world around us. "All of creation groans..." Even something as inspirational as cathedral chimes can weigh heavy on us, b/c we long for something more. Beauty can remind us that we aren't home.
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