Wednesday, July 25, 2012

'I, and Silence, some strange Race'

"I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading -- treading -- till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through --"
"And when they were all seated,
A service, like a drum --
Kept beating -- beating -- till I thought
My mind was going numb --


And then I heard them lift a box
And creak across my soul
With those same boots of lead, again,
Then Space -- began to toll;"
"As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race
Wrecked, solitary, here --

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down --
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing -- then --"

 ~ 'I felt a funeral, in my brain' : Emily Dickinson ~

One of America's greatest poets, Emily Dickinson (1830 – 1886), led a life of self imposed seclusion. This offbeat lifestyle almost cut off from the society created an aura around her life and literature, often celebrated and romanticized after her death. Though she was shy in social situations her poems have an amazing capacity to move and provoke. Most of the time she spent in the family house in Amherst, Massachusetts and rarely met people from outside. Yet in the closet she was an artist and accomplished musician. A prolific writer, she wrote more than 1500 poems and countless personal letters to a chosen circle of close friends.

Emily Dickinson remained a reclusive spinster all her life  and died at the age of 55 from Bright’s disease, which was caused by kidney degeneration. Doctors opined that the accumulation of stress throughout her life contributed to her premature death.

She wrote hundreds of poems every year, yet never published a book of poetry during her life. Emily wished her poems to be burnt after her death. But her sister Lavinia ignored this request and handed them over to Mabel Todd and Terrence Higginson, Emily's long standing friends. Ms.Todd use to refer Emily as "a lady whom people call the Myth". With their help the first edition of Emily's poems were published in 1893 which was critically acclaimed all over the English speaking world.

Since 1900 Dickinson has remained continuously in print.

1 comment:

Sandhya said...

I love Dickinson