Poetry Wednesday, Vol. 83

After great pain, a formal feeling comes – (372)

by Emily Dickinson

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 –

A Wooden way

Of Ground, or Air, or Ought –

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 –

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Loss and grief and death are the same, yet different, for everyone. We all must suffer heartache at some point in our lives. We all suffer differently.

Today the kids and I read about St. Diogratia, a bishop in the 5th century and his love for all men, for roman slaves. We read about his extraordinary efforts to buy freedom and shelter for enslaved families and his deep love for his fellow man. Because these strangers were made in the image of God, he felt they were worthy of his love.

What unites us in suffering, no matter how varied our experiences, is the fact that we are made in His image. We hurt for each other, we celebrate with each other, we love each other.

When you pray today, say a prayer for the Johnson family. They are saying good-bye to Beth's father. With our love and prayers for them.

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