by Emily Dickinson
I heard a Fly buzz – when I died - |
The Stillness in the Room |
Was like the Stillness in the Air - |
Between the Heaves of Storm - |
The Eyes around – had wrung them dry - |
And Breaths were gathering firm |
For that last Onset – when the King |
Be witnessed – in the Room - |
I willed my Keepsakes – Signed away |
What portion of me be |
Assignable – and then it was |
There interposed a Fly - |
With Blue – uncertain stumbling Buzz - |
Between the light – and me - |
And then the Windows failed – and then |
I could not see to see - |
I've always found this poem inspired. Not necessarily inspiring; it's pretty depressing when you think about it. Even if you don't think about it. But it's very cleverly written; there's real feeling in it. And there is a certain beauty in finality, so that it's not entirely depressing. You just have to look for the bright spots, but this is between the heaves of storm. It's not stormy right now. There's still a portion of the person that's not assignable; there's still a presence of the King; there's still the arguably insignificant life in death - there's a fly present. The fly's existence is shorter in duration than a human's, but it's still existant, and its buzzing has charcter and purpose - for if it had no purpose, it could not be uncertain. And there's light at the end of the tunnel, and stillness and peace.
There are so many cliches in this poem, but they're so skillfully referred to that you don't notice them. The fly on the wall, the light in the tunnel. And while I hate atttributing emotions to poets, since half the time the interpretations are things that aren't even possible for the poet to have thought or felt, Emily Dickinson probably did feel all of it - the depression, the tension, the silence, the peace, the seriousness, the death, the hope for the future. The greedy heirs, still trying to maintain the solemnity of a deathbed. I think she did feel it. And she certainly made me feel it.
