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| March, 2001 |
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 --
Emily Dickinson
just want to say i'm here and love.
ReplyDeleteYou always find the perfect poem. Sophie has always had beautiful hair, hasn't she?
ReplyDeleteSee, I've never felt so great about my own self expression, much less in my ability to interpret that of others. But this visual and poem speak so loudly.
ReplyDelete