Linda's Literary Home

Tag: freedom

  • Emily Dickinson’s “The Soul selects her own Society”

    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 “The Soul selects her own Society”

    Emily Dickinson’s “The Soul selects her own Society” portrays the nature of individual self-sufficiency, spiritual power, and the deliberate choice of isolation over social engagement.  The result is a positive statement that the strength of the soul remains ascendent, despite a world of chaos.

    Introduction and Text of “The Soul selects her own Society”

    In only three innovative quatrains, Emily Dickinson’s poem, “The Soul selects her own Society,” reveals the power of the soul’s skill in selecting its companions and rejecting external influences.  

    This profound theme is one of many that similarly focus on issues of individuality in Dickinson’s 1775 span of poems. The poet grappled with questions of personal autonomy and the inner life by creating speakers who address those inquiries in unique, strong voices.

    Emily Dickinson’s themes, poetic techniques, as well as the cultural and philosophical contexts that inform her poems all lend heft to the notion that the poet remained steadfast in her determination to live deliberately and independently.

    The claims that Dickinson’s speaker makes about the soul’s choices illuminate this poem’s celebration of individuality, and those claims offer a subtle critique of societal pressures. This important theme can be found in a number of Dickinson’s poems. The poet continued to create speakers who share her love of privacy.

    The Soul selects her own Society –

    The Soul selects her own Society –
    Then – shuts the Door –
    To her divine Majority –
    Present no more –

    Unmoved – she notes the Chariots – pausing –
    At her low Gate –
    Unmoved – an Emperor be kneeling
    Upon her Mat –

    I’ve known her – from an ample nation –
    Choose One –
    Then – close the Valves of her attention –
    Like Stone –

    Commentary on “The Soul selects her own Society”

    Emily Dickinson’s “The Soul selects her own Society” stands as the emblematic poem for not only the poet’s entire oeuvre but also for her life choice of isolation as well.  She continued to create speakers, whose voices remain strong and unique.  Her elliptical, minimalist expressions demonstrate an economy of language use seldom experienced to such a high degree.

    First Stanza: The Soul’s Decision

    The Soul selects her own Society –
    Then – shuts the Door –
    To her divine Majority –
    Present no more –

    The first stanza establishes the soul’s autonomy and power as the target of the poem. Dickinson’s speaker is personifying the soul as a feminine being, a choice that comports with her frequent portrayal of the self as an introspective consciousness. 

    The verb “selects” remains essential in distinguishing a deliberate act of choice. Unlike passive acceptance or arbitrary selection, the soul’s decision to choose its “Society” reflects a profound exercise of individual agency and strength. 

    The capitalization of “Soul” and “Society” ennobles these terms, attesting to spiritual and metaphysical power.  “Society” indicates a selected group of companions that the soul deems worthy of its attention.

    The second line, “Then – shuts the Door,” introduces an intense metaphor of exclusion. The act of shutting the door symbolizes the rejection of all that lies outside the soul’s chosen circle. 

    This exclusionary image invokes both physical and psychological barriers, making clear that the soul’s decision is not merely a preference but instead remains a absolute act of isolation. 

    The door, a boundary between the inner and outer worlds, becomes an instrument of both inclusion and exclusion, emphasizing the soul’s desire for control over its environment.

    The phrase “divine Majority” in the third line refers to a spiritual unity, such as a divine assembly representing the will of a Higher Power, and the soul accepts that “Majority” and its divinity as evidence of its own affirmative judgment. 

    The “divine Majority” also includes tangentially certain members of the broader societal collective–family and friends–on the earth plane, implying that the soul dismisses the opinions or expectations of the masses but accepts willingly and graciously all those who understand and respect the choices of the speaker.   

    The adjective “divine” imbues this majority with a sacred quality that it must possess, if the speaker is to sanction it.  The final line, “Present no more,” reinforces the irrevocability of this decision. The soul’s chosen society is now its sole focus, and all others are rendered absent, both physically and metaphysically.

    Interestingly, the word “present” can be interpreted as either an adjective or a verb, but either interpretation results in the same meaning of the phrase in this context.  As a verb, it is a command, “Offer no more suggestions for my perusal.”   As an adjective, the speaker is making the simple statement that other than her chosen “divine Majority,” no further admittance is allowed; her group remains complete.

    Dickinson’s use of her liberal spray of dashes throughout the stanza creates a spacing  rhythm, mirroring the deliberate and measured nature of the soul’s actions. These pauses invite readers or listeners to linger on each phrase, reflecting the weight of the soul’s choices. 

    The stanza’s brevity and syntactic compression further enhance its impact, distilling complex ideas into a few carefully chosen words. By framing the soul’s selection as both an act of inclusion and exclusion, the speaker has set the stage for the poem’s expression of individualism and its consequences.

    Second Stanza: Resisting External Influence

    Unmoved – she notes the Chariots – pausing –
    At her low Gate –
    Unmoved – an Emperor be kneeling
    Upon her Mat –

    The second stanza shifts its focus from it affirmative declaration to the soul’s unwavering stance in the face of external temptations, reinforcing the theme of absolute individual sovereignty. 

    The repetition of “Unmoved” at the beginning of the first and third lines serves as a rhetorical anchor, emphasizing the soul’s emotional detachment and unchanging resolve. 

    This word choice suggests not only indifference but also a deliberate refusal to be swayed by external grandeur or authority. The soul’s ability to remain “unmoved” underscores its inner strength, positioning it as a self-sustaining entity invulnerable to worldly, earthly allure.

    The imagery of “Chariots – pausing – / At her low Gate” heralds a scene of pomp and power, seeking entry. Chariots, often associated with military might or royal processions, symbolize societal prestige and influence. 

    This chariots pausing at the soul’s “low Gate” creates a striking contrast between the grandeur of the material world-at-large and the humility of the soul’s inner mystical domain. 

    The adjective “low” suggests simplicity and humility—qualities that perfectly align with Dickinson’s speakers’ recurring portrayal of the self as unpretentious yet profoundly self-aware.  The gate, like the door in the first stanza, functions as a boundary, reinforcing the soul’s control over who may enter its realm.

    The second image of “an Emperor be kneeling / Upon her Mat” magnifies this contrast. The emperor, a figure of supreme authority, is portrayed in a position of supplication—”kneeling” on the soul’s humble mat. 

    This inversion of power dynamics is astonishing: the soul—humble, modest, and tranquil—commands the respect of even the most powerful figures.  The mat, a simple household item, further emphasizes  the soul’s unassuming nature, yet its presence in this context elevates it to a symbol of the soul’s complete sovereignty. 

    The emperor’s kneeling suggests not only deference but also a recognition of the soul’s authority, which transcends all worldly hierarchies. Dickinson’s traditional, abundant splash of dashes in this stanza furthers the pauses, mirroring the soul’s contemplative resistance. Each dash invites the reader to pause and consider the significance of the soul’s indifference to such potent symbols of power. 

    The stanza’s structure, with its parallel clauses beginning with “Unmoved,” reinforces the soul’s consistency and resolve. By juxtaposing the soul’s simplicity with the grandeur of chariots and emperors, the speaker celebrates the power of inner conviction over external splendor, a theme that resonates with the Dickinsonian broader critique of societal conformity.

    Third Stanza: The Final Choice

    I’ve known her – from an ample nation –
    Choose One –
    Then – close the Valves of her attention –
    Like Stone –

    The third stanza shifts to a personal perspective, as the speaker reveals intimate knowledge of the soul’s behavior with the phrase “I’ve known her.” This shift to the first person opens up her deep familiarity, confirming the speaker’s own experience as one who often chooses solitude over societal engagement. 

    The phrase “from an ample nation” implies a vast array of potential companions, whether individuals, ideas, or influences. The word “ample” denotes abundance, yet the soul’s choice is singular and exclusive, as it selects only “One.”  This act of choosing remains both deliberate as well as reductive, narrowing the soul’s focus to a single entity or ideal.

    The metaphor of closing “the Valves of her attention” is particularly salient. The term “Valves” introduces a mechanical image, indicating a controlled and deliberate mechanism for regulating attention.  Unlike the organic imagery of doors or gates, valves imply precision and finality, as if the soul is sealing off its consciousness with mechanical efficacy. 

    The simile, “Like Stone,” further emphasizes this irrevocability, vouchsafing an unyielding, determined state. Stone is nearly immutable and enduring, indicating that the soul’s decision is permanent and secure against change.  This image also carries a sense of weight and stillness, contrasting with the dynamic imagery of chariots and emperors in the previous stanza.

    The stanza’s brevity enhances its impact, as each line dramatically builds toward the final, evocative image of stone. The dashes keep their rhythm punctuating the lines, creating the important pauses that reflect the gravity of the soul’s withdrawal. 

    By framing the soul’s choice as selective—inclusive as well as exclusive—the speaker emphasizes the result of such individual autonomy: the soul expresses its sovereignty, and the less important connection with the broader world is exposed and laid to rest. 

    A Resolute Act of Agency

    Emily Dickinson’s “The Soul selects her own Society” is a masterful exploration of individuality, autonomy, and the consequences of deliberate isolation. Through its three quatrains, the poem traces the soul’s journey from selection to rejection to final withdrawal, each stage completed by a resolute act of agency. 

    The first stanza establishes the soul’s sovereignty through its careful selection of companions, while the second illustrates its resistance to external temptations, and the third underscores the finality of its withdrawal. 

    Dickinson’s use of vivid imagery–doors, gates, chariots, emperors, valves, and stone–creates a rich tapestry of meaning, inviting readers to contemplate the power and cost of personal choice.  The poem’s formal elements, including its concise structure, halting rhythm, and strategic use of dashes, enhance its thematic depth. 

    The dashes, in particular, serve as a stylistic hallmark, creating pauses that mirror the soul’s contemplative resolve and invite readers to engage with the text on a deeper level.

    The capitalization of key terms, such as “Soul,” “Society,” and “Majority,” imbues them with metaphysical significance, elevating the poem’s exploration of individuality to a universal plane.

    Contextually, the poem reflects Dickinson’s own life as a poet who chose solitude over societal engagement. Living in Amherst, Massachusetts, Dickinson maintained a reclusive lifestyle, corresponding with a select few while withdrawing from public life.  This personal context informs the poem’s celebration of inner conviction, as well as its acknowledgment of the isolation that such conviction entails. 

    Philosophically, the poem aligns with transcendentalist ideas of self-reliance, as espoused by contemporaries like Ralph Waldo Emerson, though Dickinson’s perspective is more introspective and less optimistic about the individual’s connection to the broader world.

    Ultimately, “The Soul selects her own Society” is a testament to Dickinson’s ability to distill complex ideas into concise, evocative verse. The poem invites readers to reflect on the nature of choice, the value of autonomy, and the delicate balance between connection and solitude. 

    By portraying the soul as a sovereign entity capable of shaping its own destiny, Dickinson’s speaker has affirmed the power of individuality while acknowledging the profound solitude that accompanies such freedom.

  • Cornelius Eady’s “Renée Nicole Good Is Murdered”

    Image:  Cornelius Eady 

    Cornelius Eady’s “Renée Nicole Good Is Murdered”

    Cornelius Eady’s “Renée  Nicole Good Is Murdered” attempts an elegy motivated by political propaganda instead of poetic insight. With clumsy imagery such as “melted from / The ice pack” and melodramatic effusions such as “see what fucking / With the bull gets you,” the piece descends into propaganda which fails to speak to the gravity of the event to which it refers.

    Introduction and Text of “Renée  Nicole Good Is Murdered”

    Cornelius Eady is a fairly well-known American poet, whose work often exploits race and identity but also often focuses on music. Because the field of po-biz in its postmodern garb currently awards talentless and bombastic versifiers, who engage little more than identify politics, Eady can boast of having received Lamont and National Book Award nominations. 

    However, Eady’s 2026 piece “Renée  Nicole Good Is Murdered” falls flat because it focuses on political propaganda; it shows no characteristic of an authentic elegy and no formal poetic craft.

    A traditional elegy reflects and mourns the life of a well-known and/or well-respected individual, who has performed acts that support and defend a country or a set of widely well-regarded principles. Examples of traditional elegies are Audre Lorde’s “Father Son and Holy Ghost,” and Ella Wheeler Wilcox’s “The Queen’s Last Ride,” and Walt Whitman’s “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d.”

    The Subject of the Elegy

    Renée Nicole Good was a recent citizen of Minnesota, who, on January 7, 2026, was impeding the work of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents as they engaged in their task of locating and arresting illegal migrants for deportation, many of whom had criminal records for murder, rape, and armed robbery.

    As Good attempted to ram her Honda Pilot into an ICE agent, the agent shot and killed her.  The event has sparked national attention, with political activists exploiting the sorrowful event to score political points.  Democrats governor Tim Walz and mayor Jacob Frey have continued to gin up further violence, encouraging their citizens to continue to impede the ICE agents as those federal agents simply attempt to do their job.

    An Elegy Goes Astray

    It should be obvious that the subject to this “elegy” does not comport with the definition of a that form; the death of Renée Nicole Good is not a tragedy in the traditional, literary definition, but it is sorrowful event that we all mourn and wish desperately had not happened.  

    Good’s character flaw lay only in her failure to understand and/or accept the truth of  the political turmoil that currently grips the nation, especially Trump Derangement Syndrome, a condition that dictates that anything happening under the Trump administration is evil and must fought against by any means necessary–including attempting to run down an ICS agent with two ton vehicle.

    While Homeland Security secretary Kristi Noem’s labeling Good a “domestic terrorist” has received pushback, it does seem that the definition of that phrase clearly speaks to what Renée Good was doing that day: 

    Domestic terrorism in the United States is defined by federal statute in 18 U.S.C. § 2331(5), which states that it means activities that meet three criteria: (A) involve acts dangerous to human life that violate U.S. or state criminal laws; (B) appear intended to intimidate or coerce a civilian population, influence government policy by intimidation or coercion, or affect government conduct by mass destruction, assassination, or kidnapping; and (C) occur primarily within U.S. territorial jurisdiction. [my emphasis added: describing Good’s activism and actions]

    Serious Matter Captured by Propaganda

    The death of any individual causes concern and sorrow, especially when violence is involved, and the death of Renée Good is horrifying and remains particularly sad because she died because of the misguided urgings she believed from her fellow travelers—including the governor of her state and the mayor of her city.

    Now comes the verse maker Cornelius Eady adding more dreck to the filth that has already been spewed about this horrific event.  And this time the discourse is masquerading as an elegy—an elegy for an unfortunate, misguided woman whose action has been labeled domestic terrorism!

    The subject matter is grave, but Eady’s treatment of it as a elegiac poem makes a mockery not only the human subject but the art of poetic elegy itself.  The piece collapses into political sloganeering along with a clunky metaphor that undermines both elegiac seriousness and poetic craft. 

    Instead of focusing on complex human experience, the versifier substitutes  caricatures for genuine people and emotion, such as a “dormant virus” and the “super cops”; these phrases ring in as contrived mountebanks rather than genuine images. 

    Instead of engaging with any nuanced reality of Good’s actual life and violent death, the piece’s political propaganda sorely diminishes the ability to even grieve, and it has no chance to illuminate. 

    The piece conflates contrived imagery of viral ice-packs with law enforcement as it inserts overt hostility (“see what fucking / With the bull gets you”). Eady’s obscene, flabby phrasing sacrifices reality for blunt political postering, yielding a piece of discourse that sadly falls flat as an elegy.

    Renée Nicole Good Is Murdered

    Up rides the super cops,
    The cancellation squad.
    A dormant virus, melted from
    The ice pack,
    And the conversation
    Is end-stopped when
    The shell cracks her
    Car window, does its
    Dumb duty,
    Brings silence
    To a poet’s mind.

    The President says:
    You’re a terror bot
    If you don’t comply.
    Homeland security
    Puts on a ten gallon
    Texas size hat,
    Says see what fucking
    With the bull gets you.
    There is a picture of her
    Just before it tips rancid,
    Just before she’s dragged
    Into how they see her.

    I wish I could read the words
    As they blaze their last, unsuspected
    Race through her skull.
    A language poem that ends on
    The word
    Impossible.

    Commentary on “Renée  Nicole Good Is Murdered”

    The piece’s political sloganeering and awkward images undermine the gravity and craft of elegy, and diminish the gravity of the event it intends to mourn.

    First Movement: “Up rides the super cops”

    Up rides the super cops,
    The cancellation squad.
    A dormant virus, melted from
    The ice pack,
    And the conversation
    Is end-stopped when
    The shell cracks her
    Car window, does its
    Dumb duty,
    Brings silence
    To a poet’s mind.

    When a piece offered as a poem begins with a bald-face lie in its title, what can one expect from the rest of the piece?  The fact is that Renée  Nicole Good was not “murdered.”  She was killed by an ICE agent, acting in self-defense, as she appears to ram the agent with her two ton vehicle, a Honda Pilot.

    The opening stanza attempts to set a dramatic scene with bold imagery: “Up rides the super cops” and “The cancellation squad.” The labeling of ICE agents as “super cops” is talky and unserious, and calling them the “cancellation squad” is equal as vapid.  What’s with the grammatical error using a singular verb with a plural subject?  That one might be overlooked  and laid to an attempt at conversational dialect.

    Quite the reverse is true about the “cancellation” notation; instead of canceling anything, ICE’s work entails removing crime and restoring the social order that works well for its citizens.  The cartoonish labeling reveals more about the ignorance of real news, immaturity, and disingenuousness of the would-be poet than it does about the target of his ire.

    The next line—“A dormant virus, melted from / The ice pack”—is even more asinine. There is no connection between a virus and the Minneapolis shooting of Good. The phrase hangs out like a concocted political conflation, intending to bring to mind the pandemic era as it critiques law enforcement actions as disease-like.  Such a metaphor reduces real individuals to abstract threats and hazards. 

    Poetic metaphor and image require calibration: a powerful metaphor/image resonates with emotional truth. Here, the metaphors as well as the images feel arbitrary and jarring, unanchored to experience or sensation. It,  therefore,  becomes political propaganda rather than poetic reflection.

    The speaker of the piece  is undermining his thoughts by marginalizing them with clumsy syntax and incoherent imagery. Lines such as “The shell cracks her / Car window” attempt to point to violence but lack clarity or context, leaving the reader unsure whether the “shell” is literal or figurative. 

    These surreal pivots never come together to reveal any recognizable emotional reaction or narrative flavor.  Abrupt shifts, awkward line breaks, and absurd references place the verse into the doggerel category rather than with crafted poetry. 

    Instead of exploring grief or loss, the imagery functions to flatten any complexity of thought in favor of bald assertion. As a result, the piece establishes a tone that bespeaks propaganda instead of elegy.

    Second Movement: “The President says”

    The President says:
    You’re a terror bot
    If you don’t comply.
    Homeland security
    Puts on a ten gallon
    Texas size hat,
    Says see what fucking
    With the bull gets you.
    There is a picture of her
    Just before it tips rancid,
    Just before she’s dragged
    Into how they see her.

    The second movement intensifies these absurdities already presented in the first movement; it shifts into over-drive as is becomes pure political caricature. The claim about what the “President says” reads as hyperbolic ventriloquism rather than credible critique of actual quotation.  

    Effective elegy builds a sympathetic connection between public tragedy and private humanity, but this piece merely reduces the subject’s death to a cartoonish struggle between an imaginary oppressive state and a pathetically symbolic victim. 

    The reference to “Homeland security” donning a “ten gallon / Texas size hat” reduces would-be satire to stereotype, substituting fake bravado for engagement with real political language. DHS secretary Kristi Noem often dons Western style outfits, quite appropriately as the former governor of South Dakota.

    Profanity-laden lines aim for shock but dislocate the tone of a piece intended to elegize its subject.  This tonal imbalance further distances the piece from the contours of elegy. Even gestures toward tenderness—“There is a picture of her / Just before it tips rancid”—feel tacked on and tacky as they are aiming at rhetorical bluster.

    Third Movement: “I wish I could read the words”

    I wish I could read the words
    As they blaze their last, unsuspected
    Race through her skull.
    A language poem that ends on
    The word
    Impossible.

    The final movement tries to offer some introspection by the speaker,  but his attempt lapses into melodrama. Imagining words “blazing”  as they “race through her skull” aestheticizes the violent act rather than honoring the dead. 

    The closing epigram—ending on the word “Impossible”—feels unconvincing because it sounds so completely contrived, lacking the emotional grounding so necessary for resonance. 

    Through its three movements, the piece substitutes forced metaphor/image, political sloganeering, and abstraction for specificity, empathy, genuine emotion, and reality itself. 

    Because of all of those weaknesses, the piece fails to meet the demands of a true elegy, instead it collapses into rhetorically heavy, emotionally shallow doggerel that neither illuminates the horrific event, nor does it pay tribute and honor its subject.