On Emily Dickinson - Poem by Sara Militello
On Emily Dickinson
So what was life to her but
a deathless wait for the end of it,
the nitty gritty futility of it?
Even in the living, death's always a lure
for none have found a suitable cure.
Emily Dickinson comes to mind
‘cause she thought and wrote and dined
on death and places where one might find
the peace and quiet which eluded her mind.
Her meanings in metaphor often show
quiet crypts buried deep
and topped with snow.
Her's is a style curiously free of decay
a studied minimalism few
can replicate today.
A style that shows in the deepest way
all things that live and die everyday.
The fewest of her words capture all
of life's roulette and lays it
as if by casual nod on a visual palette.
Things many only say in an unspoke way
through euphemism and side stepping sashay
paint visions for us to see
All the way to peace and quiet and eternity.
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