Tag: Emily Dickinson

Going In

barnstormingblog3 Comments

fog1183

Let us go in; the fog is rising…
~Emily Dickinson, her last words

I have watched the dying
in their last hours:
often they see what I cannot,
listen to what is beyond my hearing,
stretch their arms overhead
as fingers touch what is beyond my reach.

I watch and wonder what it will be like
to reverse the steps that brought me here
from the fog of amnion.

The mist of living lifts
as we enter a place
unsurpassed in brilliance and clarity;
the mystery of what lies beyond solved
simply by going in.

sunset1181

A Most Beautiful Regret

barnstormingblog1 Comment

nasturt

September: it was the most beautiful of words
he’d always felt,
evoking orange-flowers,
swallows,
and regret.
~Alexander Theroux

 

cloverdrizzle2

September’s Baccalaureate
A combination is Of Crickets — Crows — and Retrospects
And a dissembling Breeze
That hints without assuming —
An Innuendo sear
That makes the Heart put up its Fun
And turn Philosopher.
~Emily Dickinson

 

afternoonblinds

poplarsunset

 

If Bees Are Few

barnstormingblogLeave a comment

cornbee

beeblu

Bees do have a smell, you know, and if they don’t they should, for their feet are dusted with spices from a million flowers.
~Ray Bradbury

Bees are having a rough time of it to the point of making the cover of Time Magazine this summer so when I see a honey or bumble bee doing its job, it is cause for celebration.

The world depends on the revery that brings the spicy smell of pollen from a million flowers to the lowly feet of the bee.
May it be, may it be.

We should only know such reverie.

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, a
One clover, and a bee,
And revery.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.
~Emily Dickinson

sunset8318

snaps

thistleblossom

yellowbunch

Dazzle Gradually

barnstormingblog2 Comments

sunset92horses4

sunset92horses
The truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind.
~Emily Dickinson from “Tell All the Truth But Tell it Slant…”

We can’t always handle all the truth all at once.  It is best for the truth to slowly bring us out of the shadows where we tend to hide to become an illuminating back drop to our lives that transforms, depending on the slant.

We begin a two dimensional silhouette and, in the light of the Truth, become fully realized, bright shining and dazzled.

And dazzling to behold.

I once was lost, but now am found.  Was blind but now I see.

sunset92horses2

sunset92horses3

Soft the Sun

barnstormingblog1 Comment

daisysunThe daisy follows soft the sun,
And when his golden walk is done,
Sits shyly at his feet.
He, waking, finds the flower near.
“Wherefore, marauder, art thou here?”
“Because, sir, love is sweet!”

We are the flower, Thou the sun!
Forgive us, if as days decline,
We nearer steal to Thee, —
Enamoured of the parting west,
The peace, the flight, the amethyst,
Night’s possibility!
~Emily Dickinson

daisysoft

sunsetdaisy

Featherless Hope

barnstormingblog1 Comment
photo by Josh Scholten
photo by Josh Scholten

“Hope” is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—

…And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird…
~Emily Dickinson from Poem 254

The end of the school year is the season of barely feathered hope in my world.  The academic nest is crowded, the competition fierce, the future uncertain.  Those who have struggled to survive in classes, in debt, in relationships, in a tenuous job market,  can find themselves ill equipped and unprepared to fly on their own.  Their lack of feathering becomes obvious the closer they get to the edge.  Bashed and abashed, they worry and panic, sleep little, self-medicate, cry easily, contemplate death.   Sometimes they tumble.

We try to catch them before they fall.

We remind them: it takes only one feather to have hope in a soaring future of grace and strength.  Only one.

The others will come.

And when they do, they will be beautiful.
crowdedout

Gloaming Fades to Dawn

barnstormingblogLeave a comment

earlydawn3

When night is almost done,
And sunrise grows so near
That we can touch the spaces,
It ‘s time to smooth the hair

And get the dimples ready,
And wonder we could care
For that old faded midnight
That frightened but an hour.
~Emily Dickinson

In the moments before dawn
when glow gently tints
the inside of horizon’s eyelids,
the black of midnight
waxes to mere shadow,
the fear forgotten for but a few hours.

Gloaming dusk
fades into gleaming dawn,
its backlit silhouettes stark
as the darkening earth
slowly opens her eyes
to greet a new and glorious morn.

earlydawn

Realm of Briar

barnstormingblog3 Comments
photo by Josh Scholten

Far from Love the Heavenly Father 
Leads the Chosen Child, 
Oftener through Realm of Briar 
Than the Meadow mild.

~Emily Dickinson

I know folks being dragged through the realm of briar right now.  They are dealing with life-threatening disease, disintegration of relationships, significant mental health challenges or the results of random tragedy.  The cruelty of so much earthly suffering cannot be easily explained nor dismissed.  It feels “far from love” to be chosen to walk through a place that rips and tears away at one’s very flesh and spirit.  Yet many of us are chosen to experience such trials rather than allowed to live life in the mild meadow.

The only consolation is that we are not alone on this path of pain.  The Chosen Child, sent to walk alongside us through the realm of briar,  bleeds with us, bleeds because of us, bleeds for us, bleeds when we have nothing left, ultimately bleeds so we no longer have to.

To be everlastingly filled, we must first be emptied.

To find our forever home, we must admit we have lost our way and need rescue.

Accompanied through the realm of briar, we suffer wounds that only Love can heal.