For She Whose Familiar Was the Grim Reaper...
Oh Emily, dear Emily
I strive to be so unlike thee...
in that you feared to read aloud
your works to all the waiting crowd
Their ears were yours -
you would not forge
ahead, afraid to display your wares
frightened to feel any ignorant stares...
Oh Emily, dear Emily
I pray that Death will not find me
as this world did at last know of you
your shoe-boxed collection rifled through
post-mortemally famous
it was most grievous
that your volumes were finally found
after that Dark Angel had come 'round...
Oh Emily, dear Emily
I wish to ne'er ride with Immortality
in such fine carriage - or no -
two I'm not so eager to know.
The last trip of all,
to know the call
of your Familiar: that Reaper dour -
You never chanced your shining hour...
Oh Emily, dear Emily
I hope that life extends more empathy
for a voracious need to write verse -
did you not know, it's no curse!
They thirst for these words
as we've longed to be heard
You're my hero, though sadly long ago gone
to you, I dedicate this paradoxical song...
KECline / 061197
for Ms. Emily Dickinson, who in death became what she could not be in Life...