(Companion piece to “Beyond the Moon” for the grandchildren)
Come play with me; we’ll make a joyful noise! We’ll bang and crash and shake the house all day Hurry! Bang your loudest noisiest toys!
Come sing with me; we’ll lift our merry voice We’ll wake the folks, won’t let them sleep today Come play with me; we’ll make a joyful noise!
We’ll thump the pots and rattle every choice And make the dogs bark so loud as we play Hurry! Bang your loudest noisiest toys!
We’ll wolf down food and laugh like savage boys We’ll spill the milk and peas in grand display Come play with me; we’ll make a joyful noise!
We’ll sing so loud with in neither tune nor poise And keep old dad and mom’s patience at bay Hurry! Bang your loudest noisiest toys!
We’ll scream and shout so loud we lose our voice Till Mom and Dad cry, “Stop! Go out and play!” Come play with me; we’ll make a joyful noise! Hurry! Bang your loudest noisiest toys!
Image: Emily Dickinson – Amherst College – Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 – likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
Emily Dickinson’s “Glowing is her Bonnet”
In Emily Dickinson’s “Glowing is her Bonnet,” the speaker personifies the season of autumn as a brilliantly adorned presence whose departure from the natural world suggests that beauty need not be conspicuous to be cherished and remembered.
Introduction and Text of “Glowing is her Bonnet”
In Emily Dickinson’s “Glowing is her Bonnet,” the speaker is describing the fall season as a beautiful, feminine presence whose brilliant colors attract attention as the season prepares to depart.
The speaker then introduces the daisy as an alternative model of departure. Rather than leaving through a spectacular display, the flower vanishes quietly, yet its disappearance does not go entirely unnoticed. Nature and countless passersby preserve its memory.
Glowing is her Bonnet
Glowing is her Bonnet, Glowing is her Cheek, Glowing is her Kirtle, Yet she cannot speak.
Better as the Daisy From the Summer hill Vanish unrecorded Save by tearful rill –
Save by loving sunrise Looking for her face. Save by feet unnumbered Pausing at the place.
Commentary on “Glowing is her Bonnet”
The speaker contrasts fall’s conspicuous radiance with the daisy’s quiet disappearance. Through this comparison, she is suggesting that genuine beauty need not demand attention to leave a lasting impression.
First Stanza: “Glowing is her Bonnet”
Glowing is her Bonnet, Glowing is her Cheek, Glowing is her Kirtle, Yet she cannot speak.
In the first stanza, the speaker introduces the fall season through a series of images suggesting brilliant colors. The bonnet, cheek, and kirtle all glow, creating an impression of extraordinary radiance.
The bonnet conjures up the colorful foliage that crowns the trees, while the glowing cheek refers to the brilliant reds and other warm colors that characterize autumn’s landscape. The kirtle, an outer garment, completes the picture of a season dressed in magnificent attire.
The repeated word “Glowing” emphasizes the intensity of autumn’s appearance. Nature seems to have dressed itself in a spectacular display of color, attracting the attention of anyone who happens to observe it. Yet the final line introduces an interesting qualification: “Yet she cannot speak.”
Autumn possesses extraordinary visual beauty, but it does not communicate verbally. Its departure must be understood through the changing appearance of nature. The speaker thus is personifying autumn as a feminine presence, by employing the familiar human characteristics of clothing and facial features to portray the season.
Second Stanza: “Better as the Daisy”
Better as the Daisy From the Summer hill Vanish unrecorded Save by tearful rill —
The speaker now introduces a comparison between the conspicuous departure of fall and the much quieter disappearance of a daisy from a summer hillside. The opening word “Better” is especially important because it introduces a preference. The speaker appears to suggest that there is something more appealing about disappearing without attracting widespread attention.
The daisy does not announce its departure through a spectacular display of color. It simply vanishes from the summer hillside, leaving little evidence that it was ever there.
Yet its disappearance is not entirely unnoticed.
The speaker introduces the “tearful rill,” a small stream whose waters suggest the tears of nature mourning the flower’s passing. The image is particularly appealing because even something as small and seemingly insignificant as a daisy can inspire a response from the natural world.
The speaker thus introduces a distinction between conspicuous beauty and quiet beauty. The daisy does not need to display its attractiveness to command affection or remembrance.
Third Stanza: “Save by loving sunrise”
Save by loving sunrise Looking for her face. Save by feet unnumbered Pausing at the place.
The speaker continues describing the ways in which the daisy’s disappearance may nevertheless be remembered. The “loving sunrise” becomes another participant in the natural world’s affectionate recognition of the flower.
The sunrise is personified as though it has developed an attachment to the daisy and continues looking for its familiar face. This image suggests that even the natural world experiences something resembling loss when a beautiful feature disappears.
The speaker then introduces “feet unnumbered” pausing at the place where the daisy once grew. These countless visitors suggest that the flower has occupied a place in the landscape worthy of attention. The word “unnumbered” emphasizes the potentially unlimited number of individuals who may encounter and appreciate that particular place.
The speaker thus is revealing a charming contrast between the spectacular departure of fall and the modest disappearance of the daisy. Although the flower vanishes without any formal record, it nevertheless leaves an impression upon nature and those who pass by.
The Spiritual Dimension of Beauty and Remembrance
There is an interesting connection between the speaker’s appreciation of the daisy and the teachings of Paramahansa Yogananda. In his discussion of cultivating goodness and attractiveness, Paramahansa Yogananda advises: “Be the beauty that is in a flower, and the attractiveness that is in a pure mind.”
This teaching offers an intriguing perspective on the speaker’s preference for the daisy’s modest beauty. The flower does not need the spectacular display of autumn to possess its own special attractiveness.
Paramahansa Yogananda emphasizes the importance of inward beauty and goodness. The speaker’s comparison invites a similar contemplative musing about the difference between outward display and the quiet qualities that inspire genuine affection.
The daisy may disappear without a formal record, but its beauty has nevertheless attracted the attention of the natural world. Thus, the speaker concludes that something need not be conspicuous to possess lasting significance.
Connections to Earlier Dickinson Commentaries
In my earlier essays on Dickinson’s poems, I have discussed the speaker’s penchant for employing flowers and gardens to suggest spiritual and metaphysical realities. In “There is another sky,” the speaker creates a garden where flowers remain perpetually beautiful, untouched by the decay that affects earthly gardens. The garden represents a newly created world in which beauty and permanence prevail.
In “When I count the seeds,” the speaker again employs the garden as a metaphor for her creative and spiritual world. The seeds represent the metaphorical beginnings of poems that she plants and carefully cultivates within her fertile imagination.
The daisy in the present poem offers another opportunity to consider the significance of flowers as symbols of beauty and the continuity of existence. Although this particular flower disappears, its influence remains through the affectionate attention it has inspired.
The natural imagery thus provides a connection between this poem and the speaker’s earlier presentations of flowers and gardens as representations of realities that extend beyond ordinary physical existence.
Dickinson Riddles
As in many of Dickinson’s little dramas, the speaker never directly identifies the feminine figure as autumn. Instead, she supplies a collection of images that allows readers gradually to recognize the seasonal reference.
The glowing bonnet, cheek, and kirtle suggest the brilliant foliage that characterizes the season of autumn. The inability to speak reinforces the notion that the speaker is describing a season rather than an actual person, although she has referred to the season as “her” and “she.”
The daisy introduces an entirely different consideration. Rather than celebrating a spectacular display of natural beauty, the speaker appears to favor the modest flower that disappears without attracting widespread attention. Yet the daisy is not entirely forgotten. The tearful stream, loving sunrise, and innumerable feet all serve as reminders of its former presence.
The speaker thus fashions a charming little lesson in the relationship between beauty and remembrance. Something need not be spectacular to be worthy of affection, and something need not be recorded to leave an enduring impression.
Ultimately, the speaker’s preference for the daisy’s quiet disappearance reveals an appreciation for modesty over ostentation. Autumn may depart in a blaze of color, but the little daisy leaves behind its own special claim upon the affection of nature and humanity.
Come, my dears, let’s go fly beyond the moon! We’ll dance with stars that sail the Milky Way We’ll weave among the planets—let’s fly soon!
We’ll rise with the sun and roam before noon We’ll watch the spinning earth below us play Come, my dears, let’s go fly beyond the moon!
We’ll fly through darkness in our silver shoon The stars will shine brightening our glad way We’ll weave among the planets—let’s fly soon!
We’ll glide through skies as dreams and hopes are strewn We’ll see the worlds go spinning as we stray Come, my dears, let’s go fly beyond the moon!
Beyond this sad world—love and joy balloon We’ll meet the Soul, where peace can always stay We’ll weave among the planets—let’s fly soon!
Love is real, and our hearts remain in tune We’ll feel the light that guides us on our way Come, my dears, let’s go fly beyond the moon! We’ll weave among the planets—let’s fly soon!
“Francis Turner,” a physically and mentally weak individual, finds solace after death, romanticizing a single kiss that led to a “secret” he shared with “Mary.”
Introduction and Text of “Francis Turner”
In Edgar Lee Masters’ “Francis Turner” from the American classic Spoon River Anthology, the speaker is a pathetic little guy, who claims that suffering scarlet fever in childhood damaged his heart. Thus he finds ordinary activities challenging.
In death, Francis finds solace in a simple memory of an odd biological reaction to a stimulus. He does not reveal much about his life, but his odd reaction indicates that as his body was ravaged by the disease, his mind remained quite limited as well.
Francis Turner
I could not run or play In boyhood. In manhood I could only sip the cup, Not drink— For scarlet-fever left my heart diseased. Yet I lie here Soothed by a secret none but Mary knows: There is a garden of acacia, Catalpa trees, and arbors sweet with vines— There on that afternoon in June By Mary’s side— Kissing her with my soul upon my lips It suddenly took flight.
Commentary on “Francis Turner”
“Francis Turner,” a physically and mentally weak individual, finds solace after death, romanticizing a single kiss that led to a “secret” he shared with “Mary.”
First Movement: Couldn’t Run, Couldn’t Drink
I could not run or play In boyhood. In manhood I could only sip the cup, Not drink— For scarlet-fever left my heart diseased.
The speaker reports that as a boy he was unable to run and play as other children did. Then as a man, he could not “drink”—apparently he means alcohol but that is not clear; he could only “sip the cup.” He then asserts that the reason for these malfunctions is that in childhood he suffered scarlet fever.
It becomes obvious that this character is setting himself up as a pathetic invalid in order to make some remarkable discovery that he likely thinks will elevate his lowly, sickly position in life. As many of these characters do, Francis attempts to not only cover his life’s blemishes but also to make some grandiose display of how he was not such a loser after all.
Second Movement: Comfort in a “Secret”
Yet I lie here Soothed by a secret none but Mary knows:
Despite his malady which left him unable to function as a normal adult, Francis finds solace and comfort in a “secret” to which no one but “Mary” is privy. It becomes clear that Francis now feels tranquil about this life’s tribulations; he has learned to look past his flaws, which could be a useful position to take, except for the nature of that “secret.”
Third Movement: Where the “Secret” Happened
There is a garden of acacia, Catalpa trees, and arbors sweet with vines— There on that afternoon in June By Mary’s side—
Francis then describes the location where the “secret” took place. It was in a garden filled with flowers such as acacia, a flower that turns up quite frequently in poems and songs.
The garden included catalpa trees and “arbors sweet with vines.” It was in the month of June in the afternoon, and Mary was seated beside Francis. The speaker has now romanticized the location of this secret happening to point of near overkill. This romanticization could herald nothing less than a sexual encounter.
But the reader will remain skeptical that such an encounter would be in Francis’ offing, after having heard of the speaker’s complete and utter physical and mental incapacities. Nevertheless, Francis has staged the scene and has his readers on pins and needles wondering what will happen next, that is, what did happen that has caused Francis to lie in his grave all soothed over with what seems to be delight.
Fourth Movement: Pathetic Little Guy
Kissing her with my soul upon my lips It suddenly took flight.
In his final effusion, Francis demonstrates the depth of his naïveté. Francis and Mary kiss. And Francis now remembers that his soul was “upon [his] lips.” His exaggeration merely indicates that it was a passionate kiss but also that he is employing of the term “soul” only as a metaphor for mind.
But Francis then remarks, “It suddenly took flight.” It is difficult to interpret this claim as other than he experienced a penile erection (and possibly an ejaculation), likely the first time in his life.
This occurrence seems to have surprised Francis and delighted him so much that after death this physical reaction to a stimulus is the chief memory he cares to indulge from his life.
That an erection/ejaculation can become the soothing factor of his after death experience provides the evidence that Francis remained a pathetic, weak, naïve character in life and death.
O I want to know God—not just the name The one that crazed humanity has done That deity so styled is not the same
I seek only the word that speaks from flame I seek answers beyond the rising sun O I want to know God—not just the name
Though I may speak harsh words that often blame Those whose thoughts twist and turn where truth is spun That deity so styled is not the same
True love should speak true words that do not claim To say what can’t be said and be undone O I want to know God—not just the name
I shall go on searching for here I came To attune myself under the warm sun That deity so styled is not the same
Craving will leave me lost inside this frame Knowing will leave all doubt to be undone O I want to know God—not just the name That deity so styled is not the same
Basically a flaming atheist, Wendell P. Bloyd, blames his ultimate death on his blasphemy, which, in fact, merely consisted of his misinterpretation of a few lines from the Genesis creation story.
Introduction and Text of “Wendell P. Bloyd”
In Edgar Lee Masters’ “Wendell P. Bloyd” from the American classic Spoon River Anthology, the speaker professes a flawed interpretation of the Genesis creation myth, implying that he ultimately died because of his “blasphemy.” Likely, Bloyd wants his listeners to infer either some irony or logical consequence after he reports that he was, “beaten to death by a Catholic guard.”
Wendell P. Bloyd
They first charged me with disorderly conduct, There being no statute on blasphemy. Later they locked me up as insane Where I was beaten to death by a Catholic guard. My offense was this: I said God lied to Adam, and destined him To lead the life of a fool, Ignorant that there is evil in the world as well as good. And when Adam outwitted God by eating the apple And saw through the lie, God drove him out of Eden to keep him from taking The fruit of immortal life. For Christ’s sake, you sensible people, Here’s what God Himself says about it in the book of Genesis: “And the Lord God said, behold the man Is become as one of us” (a little envy, you see), “To know good and evil” (The all-is-good lie exposed): “And now lest he put forth his hand and take Also of the tree of life and eat, and live forever: Therefore the Lord God sent Him forth from the garden of Eden.” (The reason I believe God crucified His Own Son To get out of the wretched tangle is, because it sounds just like Him.)
Commentary on“Wendell P. Bloyd”
The flaming atheist, Wendell P. Bloyd, blames his ultimate death on his blasphemy, which, in fact, merely consisted of his misinterpretation of a few lines from the Genesis creation story.
First Movement: Committed
They first charged me with disorderly conduct, There being no statute on blasphemy. Later they locked me up as insane Where I was beaten to death by a Catholic guard.
Wendell P. Bloyd reports that he had been committed to an insane asylum, where he was killed by a Catholic guard. Bloyd begins his diatribe by railing against an amorphous “they” who first charged him with “disorderly conduct.”
According to Bloyd “they” charged him as disorderly for the simple reason that “there [is] no statute on blasphemy.” Then this nameless “they” committed him to an asylum for the insane, where he met his death at the hands of the guard. Of course, it is important to note that the guard was “Catholic.”
Second Movement: Interpretation
I said God lied to Adam, and destined him To lead the life of a fool, Ignorant that there is evil in the world as well as good. And when Adam outwitted God by eating the apple
Bloyd then begins to explain what his real offense was. He was not disorderly or insane, he merely offered his interpretation of Genesis, specifically Genesis 3:22:
And the LORD God said, Behold, the man is become as one of us, to know good and evil: and now, lest he put forth his hand, and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live for ever. (King James Version)
“They” used the excuses of disorderedly conduct and insanity to lock Bloyd up because of his belief that God lied to Adam and Eve and then expelled them from the Garden of Eden before they could become immortal. Bloyd claims that God lied to Adam and Eve and influenced them to lead their lives as fools, unaware that both good and evil exist in the world.
Third Movement: Outsmarting God
And when Adam outwitted God by eating the apple And saw through the lie, God drove him out of Eden to keep him from taking The fruit of immortal life.
Bloyd continues his dimwitted interpretation by claiming that Adam outsmarted God when he and Eve ate the apple and thus understood that they had been lied to. And then God drove them from the Garden before they could acquire the ability to become immoral.
Fourth Movement: Exposing a Lie
For Christ’s sake, you sensible people, Here’s what God Himself says about it in the book of Genesis: “And the Lord God said, behold the man Is become as one of us” (a little envy, you see), “To know good and evil” (The all-is-good lie exposed): “And now lest he put forth his hand and take Also of the tree of life and eat, and live forever: Therefore the Lord God sent Him forth from the garden of Eden.” (The reason I believe God crucified His Own Son To get out of the wretched tangle is, because it sounds just like Him.)
In this final movement, Bloyd quotes the excerpt from the Bible, Genesis 3:22 from which he has gleaned the notion that God told Adam and Eve a lie but Adam exposed the lie and thus was expelled from paradise. The problem with Bloyd’s conclusion is that he misunderstands the reason for Adam and Eve’s having been admonished against eating the “apple.”
Eating the apple, which is a metaphor for engaging in sex and animal propagation, was forbidden because that activity would cause the consciousness in the newly created beings to fall from the brain down the spine to the coccyx.
In the Genesis story of creation, the “tree of life” is the human body, not life in general. The “knowledge of good and evil” also does not refer to those qualities in the world but as the human mind and body falling under the spell of the dualities and having to live under that spell.
Before the consciousness fell from the brain to the coccyx, the human’s consciousness was God-united, superconsciousness. As long as the human consciousness was God-united, it was already like God, comprehending all, possessing all power, and aware that it existed eternally.
It was after the fall that human consciousness became confined, having to live under the spell of mayic (satanic) delusion, the qualities of good and evil, unable to access the astral and causal levels of existence with ease as it would have been before.
God complained, “the man is become as one of us, to know good and evil.” God is not saying that before the fall man did not know the difference between good and evil, but instead he saying that man did not have to live according to the restraints of the dualities of the physical world before the fall.
Before the fall, for example, humans could bring children into existence without sexual intercourse between the pair and the woman having to carry the new life in her womb and then give birth. They could procreate immaculately, simply by thinking the new being into existence. When man became “as one of us,” he did not, in fact, become as a god; quite the opposite, he lost that quality.
Man by disobeying his first commandment demonstrated a hubris that made him think he could disobey without punishment. In other words, God is saying, “man now only thinks he is one of us, thus we must preclude his ability to live forever with this fallen, delusive state of mind.”
Therefore, God merely completed the process that Adam started when he ate the “apple.” But because Adam and Eve were now destined to live under Maya—the world of dualities of good and evil—God completed the expulsion from paradise in order to keep fallen humankind from living forever in that fallen state.
In order to live forever, the human being must once again take his consciousness up the spine to the brain where it will again unite with true Divine Consciousness, as it had been in the beginning of its creation.
Bloyd’s Parenthetical
Bloyd’s final remark rests in parentheses:
(The reason I believe God crucified His Own Son To get out of the wretched tangle is, because it sounds just like Him.)
This remark puts the final cap on Bloyd’s useless and impaired reasoning, and it does so in a clumsy rhetorical structure as it gums up Bloyd’s stance of the issue.
Perhaps Bloyd thinks that by perpetuating another outrageous act, God could divert the attention of folks away from this initial “wretched” situation. But, in fact, if folks have great difficulty understanding the Genesis creation story, they will not let God off the hook for “crucif[ying] His Own Son.”
Despite his seeming atheism, the interesting factoid about this final parenthetical is that Bloyd sounds almost as if he is simply angry with God, not that he does not even believe in the existence of God. Or maybe he just hates Catholics!
Soldiers march through stormy fields of dark blood Deft duty drives them forward through the fight Their enemies sink into lib’ral mud
Tough skeins of battle rage beneath the flood Of muscle might and politics with might Soldiers march through stormy fields of dark blood
Lib’ral dust then alights blocking the good Smothering every glad spark on what’s right Their enemies sink into lib’ral mud
Brav’ry removes gloom from the neighborhood As the dying mourn their loss through the night Soldiers march through stormy fields of dark blood
That lib’ral breath pollutes is understood Their vote demands the other side lose sight Their enemies sink into lib’ral mud
Lib’ral press corrupts the news with falsehood Their sycophants proclaim their cause is right Soldiers march through stormy fields of dark blood
No mind without a compass can do good Lib’ral slime blinds the soul and clouds all sight Soldiers march through stormy fields of dark blood Their enemies sink into lib’ral mud
Image: Emily Dickinson – Amherst College – Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 – likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
Emily Dickinson’s “A throe upon the features”
The speaker in Emily Dickinson’s “A throe upon the features” is exploring the mystery of death, presenting physical encasement departure as a passage to spiritual reunion and liberation.
Introduction and Text of “A throe upon the features”
In Emily Dickinson’s “A throe upon the features,” the speaker is contemplating the experience of death and the anguish that accompanies its consideration. Her speaker presents death as a dramatic departure from earthly existence, while suggesting that patience and spiritual understanding can transform the fear of separation into an opportunity for reunion with the Divine Reality.
The speaker initially describes the physical manifestations of death, including the contortions of the face and the hurried breath. However, she then introduces the intriguing expression “An ecstasy of parting.”
Such a notion does suggest that death involves something more than the cessation of physical life. The second stanza further develops this idea by introducing the prospect of rejoining a sacred reality that belongs to the soul’s essential nature.
A throe upon the features
A throe upon the features – A hurry in the breath – An ecstasy of parting Denominated “Death” –
An anguish at the mention Which when to patience grown, I’ve known permission given To rejoin its own.
Commentary on “A throe upon the features”
This Dickinson gem offers a fascinating view of death, presenting its outward physical manifestations alongside the event featuring an inward spiritual experience. The speaker gradually moves from physical anguish toward the inevitability of a more profound reunion.
First Stanza: The Physical Manifestations and Spiritual Possibility of Death
A throe upon the features – A hurry in the breath – An ecstasy of parting Denominated “Death” –
In the first stanza, the speaker begins by describing the physical appearance of an individual approaching death. The word “throe” suggests an intense spasm or pang, while “upon the features” directs attention to the visible contortions of the face.
The next line, “A hurry in the breath,” adds another physical manifestation of the dying process. Breathing becomes hurried and irregular, suggesting that the body’s ordinary functions are approaching their conclusion.
However, the speaker then introduces a surprising expression: “An ecstasy of parting.” Rather than describing death exclusively as an agonizing experience, she insists that departure from earthly existence involves an extraordinary release.
The word “ecstasy” introduces an entirely different dimension. It denotes an experience of intense spiritual joy, one that cannot be understood through ordinary physical sense perception.
The speaker then identifies this mysterious experience as “Death.” The capitalization emphasizes the importance of this event, while “Denominated” indicates that death is the name humanity assigns to an experience whose deeper significance remains largely mysterious.
Paramahansa Yogananda offers an intriguing parallel in his teachings about the soul’s departure from the physical body. In “Understanding Death and Loss,” the great guru explains that after the initial fear associated with death, “the soul feels a joyous sense of relief and freedom.”
That concept offers an interesting spiritual interpretation of the speaker’s “ecstasy of parting.” What appears to earthly observers as a painful departure, in fact, represents a liberation from physical limitations.
Second Stanza: Patience and Permission to Rejoin Its Own
An anguish at the mention Which when to patience grown, I’ve known permission given To rejoin its own.
The second stanza introduces the emotional consequences of contemplating death. The speaker acknowledges “An anguish at the mention,” revealing that merely discussing death can produce considerable distress.
The word “anguish” conveys a much deeper disturbance than ordinary sadness. The thought of separation, particularly from those whom one loves, can produce an almost unbearable emotional response.
However, the speaker introduces an important qualification: “Which when to patience grown.” This expression affirms that anguish need not remain in its original, distressing condition. As patience develops, the individual’s understanding of death cundergoes a transformation.
The next two lines present the most intriguing idea in the poem: “I’ve known permission given / To rejoin its own.” The speaker avers that something previously separated eventually receives permission to return to its rightful place.
The expression “its own” may seem mysterious. The speaker does not identify precisely what is being reunited or the nature of the reunion, but her deliberate vagueness can be interpreted as none other than the soul returning to its spiritual source.
To add the ideas that the speaker may also be referring to the restoration of a relationship that physical death temporarily interrupts is simply to misunderstand the gravity of the exact union to which the speaker is referring. Paramahansa Yogananda offers a closely related spiritual concept in his teachings about the immortality of the soul.
The great yogi-guru explains that the soul is not destroyed by departing the body and that death does not terminate the individual’s essential spiritual existence. His teachings therefore offer a meaningful perspective on the nature of reunion affirmed by Dickinson’s concluding lines.
In my earlier essays on Dickinson’s poems, I have discussed the speaker’s recognition that death cannot eliminate the deeper experiences of the soul. In “I measure every Grief I meet,” the speaker considers the persistence of suffering beyond physical death. That discussion offers an interesting contrast to the present poem, where the speaker introduces the act of release and reunion.
The word “permission” is particularly intriguing because it affirms that the reunion does not occur through human determination alone. Some greater authority (the Divine Reality or God) actually governs the circumstances under which separation ends.
Thus, the speaker moves from the anguish associated with contemplating death toward the reality of spiritual restoration. Patience seems to provide the necessary transformation in understanding, allowing the individual to contemplate departure without remaining imprisoned by fear.
The final expression, “To rejoin its own,” leaves readers with a tantalizing reality. The speaker does not need to explain the precise nature of the reunion: it is the soul that belongs to that spiritual realm and “its own” can only be the Blessèd Creator, the Divine, Reality, God, or Spirit..
In this little gem, Dickinson’s speaker demonstrates that death possesses a significance far beyond its outward physical manifestations. What appears to be an ending actually represents a return to the spiritual realm of existence that remains eternally one’s own.
Attorney Fallas’ life was dedicated to acquiring knowledge about ministering to the mentally challenged in order to care for his son, who suffered brain damage while being born.
Introduction and Text of State’s Attorney Fallas
State’s Attorney Fallas became the seeker of justice for the wife murderer, Barry Holden. But his own life was influenced by an accident of birth when his son was left mentally challenged by the actions of a doctor.
State’s Attorney Fallas
I, the scourge-wielder, balance-wrecker, Smiter with whips and swords; I, hater of the breakers of the law; I, legalist, inexorable and bitter, Driving the jury to hang the madman, Barry Holden, Was made as one dead by light too bright for eyes, And woke to face a Truth with bloody brow: Steel forceps fumbled by a doctor’s hand Against my boy’s head as he entered life Made him an idiot. I turned to books of science To care for him. That’s how the world of those whose minds are sick Became my work in life, and all my world. Poor ruined boy! You were, at last, the potter And I and all my deeds of charity The vessels of your hand.
Commentary “State’s Attorney Fallas”
Attorney Fallas’s life was dedicated to acquiring knowledge about ministering to the mentally challenged in order to care for his son, who suffered brain damage while being born.
First Movement: Self-Portrait
I, the scourge-wielder, balance-wrecker, Smiter with whips and swords; I, hater of the breakers of the law; I, legalist, inexorable and bitter, Driving the jury to hang the madman, Barry Holden, Was made as one dead by light too bright for eyes, And woke to face a Truth with bloody brow:
The state attorney begins by describing himself. He paints a picture of a severe man who is a “hater of the breakers of law.” He is a bitter man, and he freely admits it. He also embellishes his past action with claims such as “smiter with whips and swords,” more likely with words and arguments because after all he is a “legalist.”
In that role as legalist, State Attorney Fallas managed to persuade a “the jury to hang the madman, Barry Holden.” Interestingly, Fallas rather glides over Barry Holden by making the simple claim that he was able to bring about the corporal punishment of the wife murderer.
Readers are just coming off the “Barry Holden” epitaph, in which they learned of the depravity of Holden, who was influenced by watching a jury trial of a doctor who murdered his pregnant lover. While readers might hanker for more information about Holden, they can be slaked just to know that Holden did hang for his crime.
Now we must move on to the man, who was able to have the madman hanged. And the state attorney turns out to be a rather colorful and wide-ranging character. Though a sad and bitter man, he turns out to be a compassionate man, who tried to offer aid and comfort to his disabled son.
Second Movement: Damaged Son
Steel forceps fumbled by a doctor’s hand Against my boy’s head as he entered life Made him an idiot.
The central motivating factor in the state attorney’s life is described in this movement. As the man’s son was coming into this world, a doctor employed the use of forceps but badly mishandled the instrument, leaving the boy to live with a damaged brain.
Attorney Fallas frames the boy’s condition a being that of an “idiot.” This term used be a technical term used in psychology in a classification system for mental retardation. Now the system, the terms, even the term “mental retardation” have all been axed, yielding to the creeping distortions of political correctness.
Therefore, Fallas was not calling his son an offensive name; he was giving the prevailing label of those with an I.Q. rating of under 25 and the mental capacity of under three years old.
Third Movement: Loss of Equanimity
I turned to books of science To care for him. That’s how the world of those whose minds are sick Became my work in life, and all my world.
Attorney Fallas then reports that because of his son’s infirmity he started to read “books of science” to figure out the best methods for caring for his severely mentally challenged son. The attorney then makes the startling claim that the world of those mentally sick became his main focus in life. That study become “all my world.”
His intensity in pursuing knowledge regarding the mentally challenged flooded his life, likely making it difficult to face certain legal cases with equanimity. As the attorney faced down the madman, Barry Holden, he was likely keenly aware of the difference between the mentally challenged and the criminally insane.
Fourth Movement: Molded by Circumstances
Poor ruined boy! You were, at last, the potter And I and all my deeds of charity The vessels of your hand.
The attorney then address his son, exclaiming, “Poor ruined boy!” Fallas again makes a startling claim: metaphorically, he likens himself to a piece of clay that has continued to be molded on a potter’s wheel by his son and his son’s condition. The son has served as the “potter,” who molded the attorney’s life.
All the ministrations the state attorney has offered his son and all that the attorney has done for “charity” have come about because of his son’s mental challenge, which the state attorney wished to ameliorate with his care and attention.
Combating the Rain: A Suite of Five Fractured Poems
“We are not the same persons this year as last; nor are those we love. It is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person.” —W. Somerset Maugham
I. They Dream Spring
They dream spring Under slow, gray clouds Where the lies They tell themselves Are as wet And transparent As the rain
Where all she knows About him Is hanging From the plants She kept alive While he Was away
Too bad he goes Before strawberry season Before planting Tomatoes, cucumbers And cabbages
II. Her Words
If her words could move like the wind, They would form his face in the clouds. They would hang in the tops of the trees, Gently hovering a nest Where a mother bird sits on eggs The color of his eyes.
III. Anticipation of the Vernal Equinox
Baby will not kick her walls again Empty womb forever In a house that will not rock And groan with the new born Empty breasts not needed No new tiny lips to suck out milk Two babies came made her body Made her house ready for babies Empty tubes cut & burned Baby she is ready for Comes each month As far as the scar
IV. The Break
The zipper at the back of her neck Catches hairs That break in sharp snaps— Like his words As he jumped over the couch spitting out: ‘it’s your fucking fault’—
She knows it’s her fucking fault. If his spit could put out The fire in her head Her eyes would spew him A smoky thanks And her excuses would fall at his feet Humble ashes.
V. Between Slices of Bread
His tongue cuts Slices of meat From the hearts And livers Of those Who would love him
From between his teeth He picks pieces of flesh That pours from each victim— A stuck hog
