On this Winter Solstice morning, wishing you and yours powerful peace in the short sunlight hours and a good, long winter’s night sleep.
There’s a Certain Slant of Light – Emily Dickinson
There’s a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons —
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes —
Heavenly Hurt, it gives us —
We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the Meanings, are —
None may teach it — Any —
’Tis the Seal Despair —
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air —
When it comes, the Landscape listens —
Shadows — hold their breath —
When it goes, ’tis like the Distance
On the look of Death —
In the gaze of the other 
Emily Dickinson. She coulda benefited from a Prozac or 2.
She might not have produced such a lovely and penetrating poem as There’s a Certain Slant of Light had she been happier. Poems produced as palliative to pain is something of what poetry is about, no?
Yes. Indeed.
I was being a bit cheeky. But I felt a melancholy of recognition and a pang of commiseration as well. She died relatively young at 56. Of course, 56 is only young by today standards. Still, I wonder.
Hey, I know someone writes just like her…..
I wish I wrote like her.