emily got it
A perfect description of a migraine, and it's somewhat comforting to know that such a great poet got them, too.
I Felt a Funeral in My Brain, by Emily Dickinson
I felt a funeral in my brain,
And mourners, to and fro,
Kept treading, treading, till it seemed
That sense was breaking through.
And when they all were seated,
A service like a drum
Kept beating, beating, till I thought
My mind was going numb.
And then I heard them lift a box,
And creak across my soul
With those same boots of lead, again.
Then space began to toll
As all the heavens were a bell,
And Being but an ear,
And I and silence some strange race,
Wrecked, solitary, here.
I Felt a Funeral in My Brain, by Emily Dickinson
I felt a funeral in my brain,
And mourners, to and fro,
Kept treading, treading, till it seemed
That sense was breaking through.
And when they all were seated,
A service like a drum
Kept beating, beating, till I thought
My mind was going numb.
And then I heard them lift a box,
And creak across my soul
With those same boots of lead, again.
Then space began to toll
As all the heavens were a bell,
And Being but an ear,
And I and silence some strange race,
Wrecked, solitary, here.
posted by Pensive Girl @ 12:14 PM
1 Comments:
At 3:59 PM,
Faith said…
That's one of my fave poems of hers! Sorry about the migraine, though. That's never good. I've got a bit of a headache myself right now, but I can't trace it to any one cause. I've eaten, I've had caffeine, and I've had plenty o' water today thus far. Probly due to my girlie-thing that I have, dag nabbit! Advil is my only hope...
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