[Model: Richard Guebar]After great pain, a formal feeling comes
Emily Dickinson After great pain, a formal feeling comes –
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs –
The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?
The Feet, mechanical, go round –
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought –
A Wooden way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone –
This is the Hour of Lead –
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow –
First – Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go —
Emily Dickinson After great pain, a formal feeling comes –
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs –
The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?
The Feet, mechanical, go round –
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought –
A Wooden way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone –
This is the Hour of Lead –
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow –
First – Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go —
————————————-
I am fully aware you read this so-called blog, somewhere in the recesses of your offices, when everyone’s gone. Is it cold there? Let me start by stating that I had no strategy of sentiment. Apathy is not big in my dictionary, so pocket your thoughts on inadvertence or even dispassion on my part. Besides, you were not able to convey either. I am just wondering, Was it all about vulnerability you just did not wish then to express? But then again, you always let your guard down whenever we were together. Those were happy episodes [although I remember them now with a smile and a twitch somewhere]. The thing is, I am regretful. Stupidity is one of my greatest virtues. The philosophy of our self-styled relationship just made it difficult for me to express how I equitably felt. And as things stand now, I am helpless to reconstruct the mess of emotions and feelings left from that talk last night. This will be my last piece on the subject. Your books and shirts shall be sent to your office.
