There’s a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons—
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes—
 
Heavenly Hurt, it gives us—
We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the meanings are—
 
None may teach it—Any—
'Tis the Seal Despair—
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air—
 
When it comes, the Landscape listens—
Shadows—hold their breath—
When it goes, ‘tis like the Distance
On the look of Death—

"There’s a Certain Slant of Light" (258) by Emily Dickinson

Rereading in preparation for the thingy later and had forgotten how heavy (but sort of… internally heavy) light feels in this poem.

Particularly apropos of any meaningful reading experience, I think: “Heavenly Hurt, it gives us— / We can find no scar, / But internal difference, / Where the meanings are—”. I used to read so much more poetry than I do nowadays (mainly because I’ve been focusing on novels and plays at university)… makes me sad.

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  8. coeurloup reblogged this from hermionejg and added:
    Oh, this is beautiful. I love how clearly she describes this feeling!
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