It’s Emily Dickinson’s birthday. Here’s a poem I wrote about her, ‘found’ from within her own brilliant creations.
Emily
When I was a little girl
They shut me up in prose
Because I dealt my pretty words
Like treason to my foes.
A loaded gun – they called me –
And carried me away
And locked me in the closet –
A false captivity!
Demure – and you’re dangerous –
Assent – and you are sane –
I breathed enough to simulate
Their narrow parlor game.
But a wounded heart dives deeper –
Tis the profundity of pain
That drives one to explore
The glittering continent of the brain.
And though they could not see my mind
Behind its Vesuvian face,
Or sense its darkest madness
Or know its divine grace
As easy as the gushing spring
That wends its way to sea,
My inland Soul exhaled –
Into Infinity –
* A found poem sourced from the poems of Emily Dickinson