You might sometimes read a poem, and think, ‘if I knew more about the author, or what she was trying to say, I would enjoy the poem more.’ And perhaps you would. But one of the enjoyments I find in poetry is letting the words, and the style, flow over my mind, and see what happens. I enjoy the feeling that cannot be put into words. That is poetry.
#10
My wheel is in the dark!
I cannot see a spoke
Yet know its dripping feet
Go round and round.
My foot is on the Tide!
An unfrequented road -
Yet have all roads
A clearing at the end -
Some have resigned the Loom -
Some in the busy tomb
Find quaint employ -
Some with new - stately feet -
Pass royal through the gate -
Flinging the problem back
At you and I!
- Emily Dickinson, 1858
What do you feel? Triumph, confusion? Is it about death, or is it about life?
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