Linda's Literary Home

Author: Linda Sue Grimes

  • Emily Dickinson’s “I haven’t told my garden yet”

    Image: Emily Dickinson - Amherst College - Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 - likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
    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 “I haven’t told my garden yet”

    Emily Dickinson’s “I haven’t told my garden yet” reveals the speaker’s profound confrontation with the impending transition of death. She is envisioning a quiet departure from the physical plane, utilizing her beloved natural surroundings to dramatize the hesitation of breaking this ultimate news to her terrestrial companions.

    Introduction and Text of “I haven’t told my garden yet”

    Emily Dickinson’s “I haven’t told my garden yet” is an American-Innovative ballad composed of four quatrains. Each stanza utilizes short, rhythmic lines alternating between iambic tetrameter and iambic trimeter, tied together by near or slant rimes.

    This brief drama functions to showcase the tension between the physical world of senses and the inevitable transition into the metaphysical realm. The speaker of the poem contemplates her looming departure while striving to keep the truth hidden from her earthly friends.

    By maintaining this absolute silence, she seeks to spare the natural world, such as her beloved garden and the hillsides, from the sorrow of her absence. On a second note, she is also inviting her readers to ponder the great mystery of where the soul journeys after the physical shell is cast aside.

    On the literal level, the poet is creating a speaker who is announcing her inability to break the news of her mortality to her immediate surroundings. It will be such a quiet transition that she desires no public display or open acknowledgment of her passing.

    Because she holds a deep affection for nature, she worries that sharing her secret will conquer her remaining emotional strength. Thus, she decides that her impending departure must remain a hidden secret, unspoken among her companions and the fields she has traversed.

    Posing as a quiet meditation on mortality, Dickinson’s little drama serves as a riddle regarding the boundary between life and death. By keeping her plans hidden from the natural world, she emphasizes the ultimate solitude of the soul’s transition.

    I haven’t told my garden yet

    I haven’t told my garden yet –
    Lest that should conquer me.
    I haven’t quite the strength now
    To break it to the Bee –

    I will not name it in the street
    For shops would stare at me –
    That one so shy – so ignorant
    Should have the face to die.

    The hillsides must not know it –
    Where I have rambled so –
    Nor tell the loving forests
    The day that I shall go –

    Nor lisp it at the table –
    Nor heedless by the way
    Hint that within the Riddle
    One will walk today –

    Reading of “I haven’t told my garden yet”

    Commentary on “I haven’t told my garden yet”

    Emily Dickinson’s “I haven’t told my garden yet” reveals an attitude of deep devotion to nature and a profound hesitation to disrupt its peace with the heavy reality of physical mortality.

    The poem is a literal contemplation of death, where the speaker is erecting a barrier of silence to protect her beloved earthly companions from the grief of her departure.

    First Stanza:  Hesitating to Report

    I haven’t told my garden yet –
    Lest that should conquer me.
    I haven’t quite the strength now
    To break it to the Bee –

    In the first quatrain, the speaker begins by alerting readers that she has kept her impending departure completely hidden from her closest companion, her “garden.” To vocalize this transition would overcome her fragile emotional state and deplete her remaining determination.

    The garden and the bee represent the living, vibrant physical plane of existence that the speaker is preparing to leave behind. She confesses that she lacks the personal fortitude to deliver such heavy news to the busy “Bee” that frequents her blossoms.

    This hesitation highlights the speaker’s delicate sensitivity to the beautiful life forms around her. She fears that acknowledging her departure openly would dismantle her quiet resolve.

    Behind her reluctance lies a deep understanding of the transition of the soul. As explained in the teachings on “Understanding Death and Loss” by Paramahansa Yogananda, “the body is only a garment,” and death is merely a “temporary emancipation” where the soul returns to its native home.

    Second Stanza:  Refusing to Alert

    I will not name it in the street
    For shops would stare at me –
    That one so shy – so ignorant
    Should have the face to die.

    The speaker then turns her gaze toward human society, declaring that she will not speak of her death in the public sphere. She envisions the local merchants and shopkeepers staring in absolute disbelief at her audacity.

    The public would find it unfathomable that a person so incredibly “shy” and “ignorant” of the grand ways of the world could possess the boldness to face death. This social commentary highlights the speaker’s preference for the quiet, solitary realm of nature over the bustling skepticism of human commerce.

    She remains deeply private, choosing to shield her sacred transition from the judgmental eyes of the town. Her ultimate journey is not a matter for public gossip or superficial curiosity.

    This choice to withdraw from the public eye mimics the lifestyle of a contemplative seeker who is focused entirely on the internal spirit. On my literary website Linda’s Literary Home, I note that the poet “lived a solitary life that in many ways paralleled that of a religious monastic,” choosing quiet contemplation over societal interaction.

    Third Stanza:  Keeping It Hush Hush

    The hillsides must not know it –
    Where I have rambled so –
    Nor tell the loving forests
    The day that I shall go –

    The speaker now directs her attention back to the natural landscape, asserting that the familiar “hillsides” must remain completely unaware of her departure. These are the beautiful places where she has spent countless hours walking and meditating in quiet joy.

    She also insists on keeping the secret from the “loving forests” that have provided her with shade and inspiration throughout her life. She cannot bear to cast a shadow of grief over these natural sanctuaries.

    By sparing the hills and forests from the date of her exit, she preserves the untouched joy of those spaces. She desires that her memory remain woven into their eternal beauty without the stain of physical decay.

    This deep communion with nature reflects a realization of the divine presence within the created universe. Her relationship with the “loving forests” mirrors the pantheistic devotion where every tree, leaf, and hillside is recognized as a living expression of the Divine Mother.

    Fourth Stanza: The Riming Riddle Will Out

    Nor lisp it at the table –
    Nor heedless by the way
    Hint that within the Riddle
    One will walk today –

    In the final stanza, the speaker reinforces her vow of absolute secrecy, forbidding herself from whispering the truth at the family dining table. She must not accidentally drop any careless hints to passersby along the road.

    The ultimate destination of her journey is described as “the Riddle,” a capitalized mystery into which she will walk before the day is done. This riddle is the metaphysical realm, the unseen world that lies just beyond the reach of human sensory perception.

    She steps into this grand unknown with quiet dignity, leaving her earthly companions to continue their physical cycles undisturbed. Her departure is a silent transition, a gentle slip from the physical plane into the cosmic consciousness.

    This transition into the “Riddle” is not a descent into destruction, but an entry into a higher state of awareness. As Paramahansa Yogananda teaches, the soul at death experiences a “joyous sense of relief and freedom,” realizing its eternal nature as it reunites with the infinite light of the Creator.

  • Gypsy Soul

    Image: Created by Grok inspired by the poem
    Image: Created by Grok inspired by the poem

    Gypsy Soul

    —after “Divine Gypsy”

    I am health.
    I am wealth.
    I am whole.
    I am an eternal,
    Immortal, divine soul,
    Roaming God’s world
    Singing to the trees,
    Humming with the bees,
    Chanting Om
    In my paradise home.

    In my paradise garden,
    I am the soul proprietor
    Of my cosmos.

  • Langston Hughes’ “Mother to Son”

    Image: Langston Hughes - Eakins Press Foundation - photo by Carl Van Vechten (1880-1964) https://www.sfgate.com/entertainment/article/Inspired-by-poet-Hughes-Influential-writer-was-2875941.php
    Image: Langston Hughes – Eakins Press Foundation – photo by Carl Van Vechten (1880-1964)

    Langston Hughes’ “Mother to Son”

    Comparing her life to a stairway in an extended metaphor in Langston Hughes’ “Mother to Son,” a mother encourages her son to face life, despite its difficulties. 

    Introduction with Text of “Mother to Son”

    The speaker in Langston Hughes’ narrative poem “Mother to Son” is engaging the literary device known as the dramatic monologue, a poetic device employed with expertise by the English poet, Robert Browning. In Langton Hughes’ narrative, a ghetto mother is advising her son about his direction in life. 

    She is employing a ghetto dialect, a device Langston Hughes has often used as he dramatizes his characters. This mother wishes to guide her son in the right direction in life and encourage him to face the challenges he will sure face.  

    She thus employs the metaphor of climbing a difficult stairway which compares to her hard life struggles.  Her stairway was not made of “crystal,” and instead, it offered her a series of challenged that she had to face and overcome.

    Mother to Son

    Well, son, I’ll tell you:
    Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
    It’s had tacks in it,
    And splinters,
    And boards torn up,
    And places with no carpet on the floor—
    Bare.
    But all the time
    I’se been a-climbin’ on,
    And reachin’ landin’s,
    And turnin’ corners,
    And sometimes goin’ in the dark
    Where there ain’t been no light.
    So, boy, don’t you turn back.
    Don’t you set down on the steps.
    ‘Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
    Don’t you fall now—
    For I’se still goin’, honey,
    I’se still climbin’,
    And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

    Commentary on “Mother to Son”

    Comparing her life to a stairway in an extended metaphor, a mother in this poem encourages her son to face life, even though it can be full of difficulties with twists and turns.

    First Movement:  A Stairway Metaphor

    Well, son, I’ll tell you:
    Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
    It’s had tacks in it,
    And splinters,
    And boards torn up,
    And places with no carpet on the floor—
    Bare.
    But all the time
    I’se been a-climbin’ on,
    And reachin’ landin’s,
    And turnin’ corners,

    Addressing her son with advice based on her own life, the mother in this poem begins by fashioning a metaphor of her life as a stairway.  She asserts that although it has not been easy to climb these step through life, she has never permitted herself the cowardly act of not striving to climb to the next higher step.   She then exclaims, “Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair. “

    The “crystal stair” emphasizes an imaginary pathway with ease, comfort, and even beauty.  The “crystal” would likely render the climb smooth and clear, much less difficult.  Such stairway would with comfort and remain without the slog that she has had to suffer.  

    The stairway that this mother has climbed has been full of difficulties, metaphorically rendered by “tacks and splinters.”  Often as she landed on certain steps, the step did not even feature the softness of carpet that would has also made the walk less arduous on the feet and legs. 

    And as in life with its many tumultuous twists and turns,  the stairway the mother has has to negotiate has yielded its many drastic and difficult share of trials and tribulations.  However, she emphasizes the fact that she has never just thrown up her hand and quit climbing, regardless of how difficult and steep the climb was; instead, she insists, “I’se been a-climbin’ on.”  

    And she has continued to make progress by being rewarded for her effort as she was “reachin’ landin’s / and turnin’ corners.” These features on the stairway—landings and corners—are parts of the extended metaphor as they are real features of a literal stairway.  Reaching each landing, thus, represents the real-life achievements that the mother has made as she vigilantly struggled. 

    Second Movement:  The Mother’s Advice 

    And sometimes goin’ in the dark
    Where there ain’t been no light.
    So, boy, don’t you turn back.
    Don’t you set down on the steps.
    ‘Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
    Don’t you fall now—
    For I’se still goin’, honey,
    I’se still climbin’,
    And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

    The mother then counsels her son, admonishing him not to quit climbing his own stairway and not to just sit down and give up. 

    She has experienced much darkness on her climb up the stairway; however, she recommends that her son now allow anything to dishearten him.  Even though life can be difficult, he must continue to struggle on.  He must never give up on life, despite all the trials and tribulations that might come his way.

    The mother is striving to convince her son that he must continue to metaphorically climb that metaphoric stairway that is his life. The metaphorical  act of sitting down on a step means giving up and then failing to confront the hardships that he will be required to overpower.

    Then three times, the mother reiterates that she has never permitted herself to give up on the fights to meet the challenges on her own life stairway.  She insists that she has kept on climbing, and she is still in the process of climbing that stairway.  She keeps on climbing. And she has no regrets that is continuing to climb.

    The mother also repeats the line in which she first employed the stairway metaphor: “Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair,” in the second and last lines.  

    The mothers has used her own experience to try to instill in her son the important idea that despite all the difficult challenges that life might throw in one’s way, the continued effort to strive boldly and tenaciously offers the only pathway that will take an individual to victory. 

    A Simple, Poignant Classic Poem

    The simply poignancy of Langston Hughes’ “Mother to Son” has resulted in the poem’s becoming a classic.  Hughes’ employment of the ghetto dialect adds vitality and accuracy to the poem. The son never speaks in the poem so the audience cannot know what he might have said or done to motivate the advice given by his mother.  

    Even whether the son understands and/or agrees with that advice cannot be known. But such facts are not germane to the wisdom of the advice.  Such advice would always be appropriate in spite of any problems that the mother and son might have been experiencing.  

    Hypothetical issues such as gang-life, poverty, or drug abuse remain largely irrelevant when placed up against the traditional values of trying to behave well and become all that one can be despite one’s original circumstances in life.

    The narrative’s actual function is to impart the very uncomplicated yet highly profound idea that no one should ever relinquish the struggle to better oneself and one’s lot in life.  In the struggle of life, each individual must soldier on to vanquish each challenge or hardship. 

    The true winners, without fail, assert that they have gathered small achievements in life as they have completed each step of their journey. Continuing  to climb is always, at least, half the battle.

    If life has not bestowed upon you a cushy “crystal stair,” you must climb it nevertheless, and even in spite of the “splinters and tacks.”  The act of climbing is far more vital to success than the physical reality of what the stairway is made of.

  • Wake Me, O Belovèd Guruji

    Image/Created by ChatGPT inspired by the poem.
    Image: Created by ChatGPT inspired by the poem

    Wake Me, O Belovèd Guruji

    —after “Do Not Dry the Ocean of my Love”

    Wishing to wake in the arms
    Of the Divine:

    Wake me, O my belovèd Guruji, wake me
    From this delusion!

    Swimming in this sea of sorrow,
    Let me swim in Thy sea of mirth.

    Dying to rise again on Thy sacred bosom sea
    No more sleep of death, no more dream of life!

    Restless sleep in the dreamland of desires
    Suffering the clack and clutter.

    From restlessness and desires that singe,
    Wake me, my belovèd Guruji, wake me!

  • James Weldon Johnson’s “The Creation”

    Image: James Weldon Johnson - https://www.green-wood.com/event/the-autobiography-of-an-ex-colored-man-110-years-later/
    Image: James Weldon Johnson

    James Weldon Johnson’s “The Creation”

    James Weldon Johnson’s “The Creation” remains a marvelous example of the poet’s depth of spirituality as well as his skilled craftsmanship at creating speakers who perform in his poetry compositions.

    Introduction with Text of “The Creation”

    In James Weldon Johnson’s “The Creation,” the speaker dramatizes Genesis chapter 1, verses 1-25.   The speaker employs the voice of a Southern preacher, exemplified by the lines, “Down in a cypress swamp” and “Like a mammy bending over her baby.”  

    The Wintley Phipps recitation of James Weldon Johnson’s “The Creation” is magnificent.  Phipps performs a perfect interpretation of Johnson’s poem.  The experience of listening to a fine poem always adds a nuance of meaning that a simple quiet reading lacks.

    The Creation

    And God stepped out on space,
    And he looked around and said:
    I’m lonely—
    I’ll make me a world.

     And far as the eye of God could see
    Darkness covered everything,
    Blacker than a hundred midnights
    Down in a cypress swamp.

    Then God smiled,
    And the light broke,
    And the darkness rolled up on one side,
    And the light stood shining on the other,
    And God said: That’s good!

    Then God reached out and took the light in his hands,
    And God rolled the light around in his hands
    Until he made the sun;
    And he set that sun a-blazing in the heavens.
    And the light that was left from making the sun
    God gathered it up in a shining ball
    And flung it against the darkness,
    Spangling the night with the moon and stars.
    Then down between
    The darkness and the light
    He hurled the world;
    And God said: That’s good!

    Then God himself stepped down—
    And the sun was on his right hand,
    And the moon was on his left;
    The stars were clustered about his head,
    And the earth was under his feet.
    And God walked, and where he trod
    His footsteps hollowed the valleys out
    And bulged the mountains up.

    Then he stopped and looked and saw
    That the earth was hot and barren.
    So God stepped over to the edge of the world
    And he spat out the seven seas—
    He batted his eyes, and the lightnings flashed—
    He clapped his hands, and the thunders rolled—
    And the waters above the earth came down,
    The cooling waters came down.

    Then the green grass sprouted,
    And the little red flowers blossomed,
    The pine tree pointed his finger to the sky,
    And the oak spread out his arms,
    The lakes cuddled down in the hollows of the ground,
    And the rivers ran down to the sea;
    And God smiled again,
    And the rainbow appeared,
    And curled itself around his shoulder.

    Then God raised his arm and he waved his hand
    Over the sea and over the land,
    And he said: Bring forth! Bring forth!
    And quicker than God could drop his hand,
    Fishes and fowls
    And beasts and birds
    Swam the rivers and the seas,
    Roamed the forests and the woods,
    And split the air with their wings.
    And God said: That’s good!

    Then God walked around,
    And God looked around
    On all that he had made.
    He looked at his sun,
    And he looked at his moon,
    And he looked at his little stars;
    He looked on his world
    With all its living things,
    And God said: I’m lonely still.

    Then God sat down—
    On the side of a hill where he could think;
    By a deep, wide river he sat down;
    With his head in his hands,
    God thought and thought,
    Till he thought: I’ll make me a man!

    Up from the bed of the river
    God scooped the clay;
    And by the bank of the river
    He kneeled him down;
    And there the great God Almighty
    Who lit the sun and fixed it in the sky,
    Who flung the stars to the most far corner of the night,
    Who rounded the earth in the middle of his hand;
    This great God,
    Like a mammy bending over her baby,
    Kneeled down in the dust
    Toiling over a lump of clay
    Till he shaped it in is his own image;

    Then into it he blew the breath of life,
    And man became a living soul.
    Amen.      Amen.

    Wintley Phipps’ recitation of “The Creation” 

    Commentary on “The Creation”

    Johnson’s speaker offers an imaginative, dramatic rendering of the origin of creation, based on the creation story in Genesis from the King James Version of the Holy Bible.

    First and Second Stanzas:  Personification of God

    And God stepped out on space,
    And he looked around and said:
    I’m lonely—
    I’ll make me a world.

     And far as the eye of God could see
    Darkness covered everything,
    Blacker than a hundred midnights
    Down in a cypress swamp.

    The speaker personifies God, giving the Deity the very human quality of loneliness and having Him “step [ ] out on space,” where He observes the vastness and decides, “I’m lonely / I’ll make me a world.” 

    The corresponding Genesis verse states,”In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.” Johnson’s speaker gives God anthropomorphic qualities in order metaphorically explain the process of creation as revealed in the Holy Scripture.

    In Genesis, the darkness was on the face of the deep, because the world was formless. Johnson’s speaker dramatically describes pre-creation as “blacker than a hundred midnights / Down in a cypress swamp.” Of course, the speaker knows that his audience, likely his congregation, would be able to visualize that cypress swamp darkness.

    Third and Fourth Stanzas:   Calling for Light

    Then God smiled,
    And the light broke,
    And the darkness rolled up on one side,
    And the light stood shining on the other,
    And God said: That’s good!

    Then God reached out and took the light in his hands,
    And God rolled the light around in his hands
    Until he made the sun;
    And he set that sun a-blazing in the heavens.
    And the light that was left from making the sun
    God gathered it up in a shining ball
    And flung it against the darkness,
    Spangling the night with the moon and stars.
    Then down between
    The darkness and the light
    He hurled the world;
    And God said: That’s good!

    Genesis reveals that God called for light by heralding, “Let there be light.” Johnson’s speaker creatively allows that first light to beam when God smiled. In addition, the speaker metaphorically has the light causing the darkness to “roll [ ] up on one side” while “light stood shining on the other.” 

    To all this drama, God says, “That’s good!” Johnson’s speaker makes God an even more active entity than the Genesis version, where instead of speaking, God’s thoughts are exposed: “God saw the light, and it was good.” At this point, only God could have had that thought.

    The speaker then takes the liberty of having God create the sun by taking light in his hands and rolling the light into a ball and setting the sun “a-blazing in the heavens.” Using the light remaining after making the sun, God gathered it up in “a shining ball / And flung it against the darkness / Spangling the night with the moon and stars.” 

    The importance of light motivates Johnson’s speaker to elaborate on the creation of the earth’s only source of light. And again, as is repeated in Genesis, the speaker has God aver, “That’s good!”

    Fifth and Sixth Stanzas:  The Significance of the Sun

    Then God himself stepped down—
    And the sun was on his right hand,
    And the moon was on his left;
    The stars were clustered about his head,
    And the earth was under his feet.
    And God walked, and where he trod
    His footsteps hollowed the valleys out
    And bulged the mountains up.

    Then he stopped and looked and saw
    That the earth was hot and barren.
    So God stepped over to the edge of the world
    And he spat out the seven seas—
    He batted his eyes, and the lightnings flashed—
    He clapped his hands, and the thunders rolled—
    And the waters above the earth came down,
    The cooling waters came down.

    The importance of the sun is further emphasized as the speaker continues his drama. God begins to walk on the earth with the sun “on his right hand / And the moon on his left.”  And the stars were “clustered about his head.”  

    As God walked on the earth, His feet “hollowed the valleys out / And bulged the mountains up.” Genesis more vaguely reveals God’s creation process than this speaker, who imaginatively fills in the gaps as he creates his own creation myth.

    In Genesis, God separates the heavens from the earth. This speaker has God spitting out the seven seas and after clapping His hands, the thunder begins and rain comes down, “cooling waters came down.”

    Seventh and Eighth Stanzas:  Nature Comes into Being

    Then the green grass sprouted,
    And the little red flowers blossomed,
    The pine tree pointed his finger to the sky,
    And the oak spread out his arms,
    The lakes cuddled down in the hollows of the ground,
    And the rivers ran down to the sea;
    And God smiled again,
    And the rainbow appeared,
    And curled itself around his shoulder.

    Then God raised his arm and he waved his hand
    Over the sea and over the land,
    And he said: Bring forth! Bring forth!
    And quicker than God could drop his hand,
    Fishes and fowls
    And beasts and birds
    Swam the rivers and the seas,
    Roamed the forests and the woods,
    And split the air with their wings.
    And God said: That’s good!

    After the rain, grasses appear, and “little red flowers blossomed” and “A pine tree “pointed his finger to the sky.” This speaker gives specific details again not found in Genesis. He has the oak “spread out his arms.”

    He has lakes appearing as they “cuddled down in the hollows of the ground.” He has rivers running to the ocean, and God smiling as “a rainbow appeared / And curled itself around his shoulder.”

    In his eighth stanza, the speaker has God creating “Fishes and fowls / And beasts and birds.” God creates by raising His arm and waving His hand and commanding, “Bring forth! Bring forth!” Again, God evaluates His creation, declaring, “That’s good!”

    Ninth and Tenth Stanzas:  A Lonely God

    Then God walked around,
    And God looked around
    On all that he had made.
    He looked at his sun,
    And he looked at his moon,
    And he looked at his little stars;
    He looked on his world
    With all its living things,
    And God said: I’m lonely still.

    Then God sat down—
    On the side of a hill where he could think;
    By a deep, wide river he sat down;
    With his head in his hands,
    God thought and thought,
    Till he thought: I’ll make me a man!

    The speaker says that God walked about and observed all that He had created. Nevertheless, just as before He created all these things, God again found Himself lonely. Of course, Genesis does not anthropomorphize God; thus, there are no claims in Scripture that God was ever lonely.

    In trying to understand the mind of God, the human mind assigns human qualities to the Deity. As long as one realizes the limitation of such assignment, no problem occurs and much understanding can be gained through metaphor and personification.

    God then sits down to think about how to assuage His loneliness. Just as a man would do, He sits by a river with His head in His hands, thinking and thinking, and He finally gets the thought to make a man. 

    Eleventh and Twelfth Stanzas:  Bodies of Clay

    Up from the bed of the river
    God scooped the clay;
    And by the bank of the river
    He kneeled him down;
    And there the great God Almighty
    Who lit the sun and fixed it in the sky,
    Who flung the stars to the most far corner of the night,
    Who rounded the earth in the middle of his hand;
    This great God,
    Like a mammy bending over her baby,
    Kneeled down in the dust
    Toiling over a lump of clay
    Till he shaped it in is his own image;

    Then into it he blew the breath of life,
    And man became a living soul.
    Amen.      Amen.

    The speaker now has God create the first human being by “scoop[ing] the clay from the riverbed.” He employs the image of a mammy bending over her baby while she kneeled down in the dust working over a lump of clay. God shaped this lump of clay in his own image, as Genesis says, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.”

    Finally, God blew the breath of life into the body of the clay God-like image, and “man became a living soul.” At this point, the speaker/preacher concludes his drama/sermon with the traditional, “Amen. Amen.”

  • Emily Dickinson’s “I never lost as much but twice”

    Image: Emily Dickinson - Amherst College - Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 - likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
    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 “I never lost as much but twice”

    Emily Dickinson’s “I never lost as much but twice” dramatizes the speaker’s confrontation with devastating earthly loss and her anguished appeal to divine compensation.

    Introduction and Text of “I never lost as much but twice”

    Emily Dickinson’s “I never lost as much but twice” features one of the poet’s most compressed spiritual dramas. In only eight lines, the speaker moves from grief to restoration and then back again into deprivation, as she attempts to understand the mysterious machinations of the Divine. 

    The poem’s minimalist structure intensifies its emotional force, while its startling metaphors—“beggar,” “Burglar,” “Banker,” and “Father”—reveal a speaker wrestling with the paradox of God as both giver and taker.

    I never lost as much but twice

    I never lost as much but twice,
    And that was in the sod.
    Twice have I stood a beggar
    Before the door of God!

    Angels – twice descending
    Reimbursed my store –
    Burglar! Banker – Father!
    I am poor once more!

    Commentary on “I never lost as much but twice”

    Emily Dickinson’s “I never lost as much but twice” portrays the speaker’s struggle to reconcile unbearable sorrow with faith in divine providence.

    First Stanza: The Two-Fold Sorrow of Human Loss

    I never lost as much but twice,
    And that was in the sod.
    Twice have I stood a beggar
    Before the door of God!

    The speaker begins with a striking declaration that she has endured catastrophic loss only “twice,” and both occasions involved “the sod,” that ancient symbol for the grave and burial earth. Readers have often speculated that the losses refer to the deaths of loved ones, but the speaker wisely leaves the reference broad enough to encompass any profound bereavement. By refusing specificity, she elevates her suffering from the merely personal into a universal human condition.

    The phrase “stood a beggar / Before the door of God” reveals a soul stripped of earthly confidence. The speaker no longer approaches the Divine as an equal child of Spirit but as one emptied by grief and compelled to plead for mercy. 

    The image recalls the teaching of Paramahansa Yogananda, which cautions against approaching God in spiritual beggary, insisting instead that the soul possesses a divine inheritance. Dickinson’s speaker, however, dramatizes the raw emotional reality that grief often reduces even strong souls to desperation.

    The tension between earthly sorrow and spiritual assurance appears frequently in Dickinson’s poetry. In additional commentaries on Dickinson poems, I reveal that her speakers are often in the process of confronting the distance between mortal experience and eternal truth. This speaker occupies precisely that threshold, poised between despair and faith, unable to relinquish either one.

    The exclamation point concluding the fourth line intensifies the speaker’s emotional urgency. She does not quietly petition heaven; she cries out from the depths of deprivation. Yet even in anguish, she stands “before the door of God,” not outside divine awareness altogether. 

    This image clearly indicates that despite suffering, the speaker still believes the Divine Presence remains accessible.  The stanza also demonstrates Dickinson’s genius for compression and minimalism. In four brief lines, the speaker moves from memory to theological speculation and then from graveyard imagery to metaphysical yearning. 

    The emotional trajectory resembles Paramahansa Yogananda’s teaching from his talk Removing All Sorrow and Suffering that human beings seek release from suffering by lifting consciousness toward divine awareness. Dickinson’s speaker has not yet transcended grief, but she instinctively turns toward the Divine as the only possible source of restoration.

    Second Stanza: Facing Loss a Third Time?

    Angels – twice descending
    Reimbursed my store –
    Burglar! Banker – Father!
    I am poor once more!

    The second stanza shifts dramatically from deprivation to restoration. The speaker reports that “Angels” descended twice and “reimbursed” her losses, suggesting moments of spiritual consolation or renewed blessings after earlier grief. 

    The financial language of “reimbursed my store” transforms emotional recovery into an economic transaction, as though heaven keeps careful accounts of human suffering.  Yet the restoration proves temporary. 

    The astonishing line “Burglar! Banker – Father!” presents the Divine through three contradictory metaphors. God becomes simultaneously the thief who removes blessings, the banker who restores them, and the loving father who presides over both actions.   Dickinson’s speaker refuses sentimental religion; instead, she confronts the terrifying mystery of a God who both wounds and heals.

    The emotional complexity of this address resembles the spiritual paradox explored in Paramahansa Yogananda’s talk Awake in the Cosmic Dream, where the great Guru explains that worldly conditions continually shift while God alone remains permanent reality. Dickinson’s speaker suffers precisely because earthly attachments are unstable. Every restored joy remains vulnerable to removal, leaving the soul “poor once more.”

    The final declaration carries tremendous emotional weight because the speaker offers no resistance or argument after naming God as “Father.” Despite bewilderment and pain, she still recognizes divine parentage. 

    Her faith survives, though stripped of comfort and certainty. The speaker’s endurance reflects Dickinson’s recurring fascination with the soul’s ability to continue seeking meaning even after repeated disappointment.

    The repeated emphasis on poverty also deepens the poem’s spiritual resonance. Material poverty often signifies lack of worldly goods, but Dickinson transforms it into a symbol of emotional and spiritual depletion. Yet mystical traditions frequently teach that emptiness prepares the soul for greater realization. 

    Paramahansa Yogananda revealed in his writings on “Meditation & Kriya Yoga” that lasting peace arises only when one discovers inward communion beyond external conditions. Dickinson’s speaker has not yet achieved such peace, but her anguish pushes her toward that realization.

    By ending the poem with “I am poor once more!” the speaker leaves readers suspended between despair and revelation. The line may sound tragic, yet it also suggests spiritual awakening through repeated loss. 

    Earthly possessions, relationships, and consolations vanish, but the soul’s dialogue with the Divine continues. Dickinson’s speaker therefore transforms grief into a profound metaphysical/mystical inquiry, revealing that suffering often becomes the doorway through which the soul most intensely seeks God.

  • James Weldon Johnson’s “Mother Night”

    Image: James Weldon Johnson - Portrait by Laura Wheeler Waring https://npg.si.edu/object/npg_NPG.67.40
    Image: James Weldon Johnson – Portrait by Laura Wheeler Waring

    James Weldon Johnson’s “Mother Night”

    The speaker in Johnson’s sonnet, “Mother Night,” likens his own existence and protection to that of the planets—all are created and protected by the same Divine Entity.  Thus his soul remains a spark from the Original Divine Flame.

    Introduction with Text of “Mother Night”

    James Weldon Johnson’s “Mother Night,” a Petrarchan (or Italian) sonnet, metaphorically dramatizes night as the calm union of the soul with the Oversoul or the individual self with Divine Self.

    The speaker, influenced by Eastern as well as Christian philosophical tenets, draws a parallel between the conflict of day and night in the cosmos and his own struggle with the pairs of opposites in his earthly sojourn.   This sonnet’s form offers polished Petrarchan rime-scheme:  ABBAABBA in the octave, and CDECDE in the sestet.

    Mother Night

    Eternities before the first-born day,
    Or ere the first sun fledged his wings of flame,
    Calm Night, the everlasting and the same,
    A brooding mother over chaos lay.
    And whirling suns shall blaze and then decay,
    Shall run their fiery courses and then claim
    The haven of the darkness whence they came;
    Back to Nirvanic peace shall grope their way. 

    So when my feeble sun of life burns out,
    And sounded is the hour for my long sleep,
    I shall, full weary of the feverish light,
    Welcome the darkness without fear or doubt,
    And heavy-lidded, I shall softly creep
    Into the quiet bosom of the Night.

    Commentary on “Mother Night”

    All creation is protected by its Creator, Who performs in various guises somewhat like a mother bird, who protects her progeny.  Nighttime is the time for rest, peaceful contemplation, and retreat from the hustle and bustle of day time activities.

    Thus, nighttime may be perceived as a protecting entity that offers solace and comfort to those in need and those who wish for such qualities in their lives.

    First Quatrain:  Existence Was Brooding before the First Created Day

    Eternities before the first-born day,
    Or ere the first sun fledged his wings of flame,
    Calm Night, the everlasting and the same,
    A brooding mother over chaos lay.

    Like a brooding mother, that is, a mother bird who is sitting on her brood of eggs and then who continues to protect and keep them warm as baby birds, “Calm Night” kept watch over the unmanifested entity until the first-born day, before the first planets were created and hurled into activity: “ere the first sun fledged his wings of flame.” 

    The mature planet of the sun is like a bird that is now flying off on its own, after having been tenderly nurtured by its mother.

    Mother Night tenderly nurtured the growing cosmos that ultimately resulted in planets and people. Johnson’s metaphoric Night represents the non-vibratory realm of reality where nothing is manifested, and only the mind of God exists in that vibrationless realm.

    There is no creation only a peaceful possibility, a potential. Until God chooses to create beings to populate His cosmos, He simply broods like a mother over chaos. 

    Here the term chaos does not refer to our modern usage of confusion and disorder but to infinite formlessness. The term originates from the Greek Khaos, indicating a dark void from which the gods originated.

    Second Quatrain:  The Projection of Light as It Creates the Cosmos

    And whirling suns shall blaze and then decay,
    Shall run their fiery courses and then claim
    The haven of the darkness whence they came;
    Back to Nirvanic peace shall grope their way. 

    The second quatrain describes the plight of whirling suns as they “blaze and then decay.” Those planets of fire will eventually burn out and after they do, they will return “[b]ack to Nirvanic peace.” 

    The speaker employs the term Nirvanic, adjectival form for “Nirvana,” the Buddhist term for God-union, which is “Samadhi” in  Hinduism, “Salvation” in Christianity, and “Fana” in Sufism, the mystical branch of Islam.

    The speaker cleverly plays by punning “whirling suns,” whereas sun puns son. With God as Mother Night, Her suns (sons) will “run their fiery courses” (live their passionate lives) and then recede back into the arms of the brooding mother or God. 

    First Tercet:  The Individual Self as It Careens Toward Oblivion

    So when my feeble sun of life burns out,
    And sounded is the hour for my long sleep,
    I shall, full weary of the feverish light,

    The sestet then shifts from the cosmos to the speaker himself, a son of the night mother. The speaker vows that he will react to his death a certain way, but he does not clarify that way yet, but merely sets up the conditions for his final claim. 

    As his life comes to an end, as he knows that it “is the hour for [his] long sleep,” he will be fully aware that his life is ebbing.

    Second Tercet:  Faith That Leads the Faithful toward Their True Home

    Welcome the darkness without fear or doubt,
    And heavy-lidded, I shall softly creep
    Into the quiet bosom of the Night.

    And the speaker will “[w]elcome the darkness without fear or doubt.” His strong faith and intuition allow him to realize that his soul is going home. 

    This speaker has mused long and hard upon the profundities that puzzle every thinking brain.  He has contemplated what science has discovered about the nature of the created Cosmos.

    The speaker has likewise compared the knowledge  of scientists to that of the tenets of religion and philosophy.  And the result of his in depth study now allows him to formulate a pathway to Divine Reality.  

    This prescient speaker has come to understand that his own soul is simply a spark of the Divine Flame, Who has fashioned out of chaos a marvelous entity of joy, peace, hope, and love.

    This speaker’s eyelids may droop, but his soul is ever ensconced in the omnipresent protection of the beautiful mother, the Mother Night—who parallels the Blessèd Divine Reality—who will throughout eternity continue to brood over and fiercely guide and guard her beloved son.  

  • Awaken In Me Divine Joy

    Image: Created by Grok inspired by the poem/chant
    Image: Created by Grok inspired by the poem/chant

    Awaken In Me Divine Joy

    —after “O Thou King of the Infinite”

    Divine Belovèd,
    Awaken in me that joy—
    Bright and sustaining joy

    That comes only in union
    With Thee, O Belovèd Divine,
    Awaken in me that joy!

  • James Weldon Johnson’s “Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing”

    Image: James Weldon Johnson - Portrait by Laura Wheeler Waring https://npg.si.edu/object/npg_NPG.67.40
    Image: James Weldon Johnson – Portrait by Laura Wheeler Waring

    James Weldon Johnson’s “Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing”

    James Weldon Johnson penned the poem “Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing” in 1900 to celebrate the birthday anniversary of the great emancipator, President Abraham Lincoln.

    Introduction and Text of “Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing”

    After James Weldon Johnson wrote the poem “Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing” in 1900 to celebrate the birthday anniversary of the great emancipator, President Abraham Lincoln, his brother John Rosamond Johnson composed the musical melody for the poem.

    The song was later entered into the United States Congressional Record, and in 1919, the National Association for Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) selected the song to serve as the “Negro National Hymn (Anthem)”—also referred to as the “Black National Anthem.”   The NAACP employed the song as a cry for unity during the civil rights struggles of the 1950s and 1960s.

    The poem shares a common theme with the American National Anthem, “The Star Spangled Banner”; both works celebrate and offer gratitude to the Divine Belovèd (God) for the rewards of freedom and individual liberty.  

    Johnson’s poem is especially significant for the black experience, including liberation from slavery and the subsequent struggle against the Black Codes and Jim Crow laws that the Democratic Party continued to enforce to foster segregation and denigration of the former slaves and their descendants after the American Civil War (1861–1865).

    Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing

    Lift every voice and sing,
    Till earth and heaven ring,
    Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;
    Let our rejoicing rise
    High as the list’ning skies,
    Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
    Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
    Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;
    Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,
    Let us march on till victory is won.

    Stony the road we trod,
    Bitter the chast’ning rod,
    Felt in the days when hope unborn had died;
    Yet with a steady beat,
    Have not our weary feet
    Come to the place for which our fathers sighed?
    We have come over a way that with tears has been watered.
    We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered,
    Out from the gloomy past,
    Till now we stand at last
    Where the white gleam of our bright star is cast.

    God of our weary years,
    God of our silent tears,
    Thou who hast brought us thus far on the way;
    Thou who hast by Thy might,
    Led us into the light,
    Keep us forever in the path, we pray.
    Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee,
    Lest our hearts, drunk with the wine of the world, we forget Thee;
    Shadowed beneath Thy hand,
    May we forever stand,
    True to our God,
    True to our native land.

    Reading by Phylicia Rashad 

    Commentary on “Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing”

    James Weldon Johnson’s “Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing,” also known as the Negro National Anthem and the Negro National Hymn, was sung publicly for the first time on February 2, 1900, by a choir of 500 children at the Stanton School in Jacksonville, Florida.

    Johnson was serving as principal of the school at the time, and the occasion was a celebration of the birthday anniversary of President Abraham Lincoln.

    First Stanza: Sing Joyfully, Loudly with Determination

    Lift every voice and sing,
    Till earth and heaven ring,
    Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;
    Let our rejoicing rise
    High as the list’ning skies,
    Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
    Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
    Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;
    Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,
    Let us march on till victory is won.

    The speaker begins by enjoining his listeners to sing joyfully and loudly in order to raise their voices to the Heavens.  Such thankful voices should spread throughout the seascape and sky.  The joy of singing about freedom can become infectious, as it uprights the minds and hearts of the downtrodden.

    The singing must be filled with the joy and faith that these people have been taught in the past, even during times that were dark with many shames.  But that singing must also ring out with the hope they must foster as they look to the present and future for better times.

    The speaker/singer encourages his hearers/listeners to continue their struggle until they meet with victory over oppression.  He insists that victory is not the final reward, but victory for freedom will demand constant vigilance, eternally watching and fighting to maintain that precious commodity. 

    The human race in all its various hues and shades has learned nothing, if not that there is never a guarantee of freedom without effort.  Keeping that emphasis on constant effort must remain part of every generation’s thinking and behavior.

    There are always groups afoot, conspiring to take the freedom and property of others.  Lest defeat be snatched from the jaws of victory, each human being must remain watchful to protect their hard-won freedoms.

    As the third American president, Thomas Jefferson, averred in his 1787 letter to the son-in-law of John Adams, William Stephens Smith:

    . . . what country can preserve it’s liberties if their rulers are not warned from time to time that their people preserve the spirit of resistance? Let them take arms. . . .  The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.

    While celebrating the joy of great accomplishments, it is often prudent to acknowledge that there is no such thing as heaven on earth.  Perfection must be left for heaven, while life on earth will always entail certain risks and require vigilance.

    Second Stanza: Remaining Undeterred by Tears and Death

    Stony the road we trod,
    Bitter the chast’ning rod,
    Felt in the days when hope unborn had died;
    Yet with a steady beat,
    Have not our weary feet
    Come to the place for which our fathers sighed?
    We have come over a way that with tears has been watered.
    We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered,
    Out from the gloomy past,
    Till now we stand at last
    Where the white gleam of our bright star is cast.

    The speaker reminds his listeners of the difficulties they have faced.  The road has been “stony”—not impossible to travel but not at all easy.  And he does not anticipate the travel will become any easier, especially without the proper attitudes and behavior.

    Their struggles made having hope a weary task, but through unwavering courage and much hard work, they know they have gained certain goals and have the ability to hold on to them; thus, they must celebrate and be thankful for all the strides forward that they have achieved.

    They have continued their march, undeterred by tears and even death.  They have traveled on despite the blood shed, the gloom, and the often dashed hopes and dreams.    

    They now can see that they stand in the much desired light of both hope and faith.  That faith gleams like a “bright star” and casts light on all those who strive for it.  

    They can finally visualize and realize that their struggles have resulted from faith, hope, and have resulted in a certain measure of success in the achievement of freedom.

    Third Stanza: Prayer, Devotion, and Gratitude

    God of our weary years,
    God of our silent tears,
    Thou who hast brought us thus far on the way;
    Thou who hast by Thy might,
    Led us into the light,
    Keep us forever in the path, we pray.
    Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee,
    Lest our hearts, drunk with the wine of the world, we forget Thee;
    Shadowed beneath Thy hand,
    May we forever stand,
    True to our God,
    True to our native land.

    In the  third and final movement, the speaker offers a prayer of gratitude to the Divine Reality (God).  The speaker/singer recognizes that the Creator (God as Father) has always guided them as they have been met with struggles for freedom.  They have come through all the “weary years with silent tears.”  

    The speaker/singer acknowledges that with the love and guidance of the Divine Reality (God), they have been led into the light, and he fervently prays that they will continue down the bright path of righteousness that leads to and maintains individual liberty.

    The speaker asks of his Divine Creator that he have the ability to keep his feet from straying away from His mercy and guidance.  He knows that only his deep faith can continue to guide and guard him through the vicissitudes of life’s trials and tribulations.

    He also petitions the Divine Guide to assist them all and not allow them to descend into drunkenness with worldly affairs that would divert their attention away from the Only Reality.

    With this concluding, holy image—”Shadowed beneath [God’s] hand”—the speaker places his life, his trust, and his faith in the only Hand that matters.    This celebration in song offers a historical glimpse into the enduring qualities that always mattered most in achieving improvements in the human condition.

    As all hymns turn hearts and minds Godward, this important song remains a necessary part of American history, uplifting the spiritual stature of all who experience the performance of its sentiment.

    Rendered in song by the Southern Sons 

    Image: James Weldon Johnson - Commemorative Stamp - http://usstampgallery.com/view.php?id=e331c006856fe114a9ec83472d926981f48b72ec
    Image: James Weldon Johnson – Commemorative Stamp