Miss Emily

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We grow accustomed to the Dark—
When light is put away—
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Goodbye—

A Moment—We uncertain step
For newness of the night—
Then—fit our Vision to the Dark—
And meet the Road—erect—

And so of larger—Darkness—
Those Evenings of the Brain—
When not a Moon disclose a sign—
Or Star—come out—within—

The Bravest—grope a little—
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead—
But as they learn to see—

Either the Darkness alters—
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight—
And Life steps almost straight.

Emily Dickinson

You learn to cope. The event happens, it changes you and 

you learn to cope.I read this poem years ago, and didn't 

really know what  it was saying. Many of Dickinson's 

words spoke to me. I was infatuated with the woman 

at one point. I loved her haunting language. 

The search to find the meaning. 

The eloquent analogies. Her truth is so brutal, so raw. 

It always gives me pause.