A poem by Emily Dickinson
There is a slanting light
Winter afternoon——
It is fascinating Repression, like
the power of a church tune -
it hurts us sacredly -
We cannot find the scar.
But the abnormality in the heart,
exactly, is the meaning——
Unspeakable——unable——
It is the postmark of despair ——
Sent to us by airmail
Emperor-like pain——
When it comes, the mountains and rivers turn their ears——
Shadow Also - concentrate and hold your breath -
When it pulls away, it is like
the distance on the face of death.
The poetry of an era rich in ideals and enlightenment is so similar to the youthful days that have not yet been "post". Every emotion is infinitely amplified, rich and desolate. Pain, this most indescribable experience, is given a "sacred" and "imperial" aura. Depression, injury, despair and death, a set of such progressive intensification, have become something that cannot be ignored.
“Like many of her other poems, this poem allows us to understand God’s treatment of grief and also gives us a glimpse of the majestic face of death.
”