“There’s a certain kind of light
On winter afternoons,
That oppresses, like the weight
Of cathedral tunes.
Heavenly hurt it gives us;
We can find no scar,
But internal difference
Where the meanings are.
None may teach it anything,
‘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.” Emily Dickinson.
Excerpted from “Emily Dickinson Selected Poems”.
Publisher: Gramercy Books, New York; Avenel, New Jersey.
Islander.