It was not Death, for I stood up
Emily Dickinson
1830 to 1886
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It was not Death, for I stood up,
And the Dead, lie down -
It was not Night, all the Bells
Put out their Tongues, for Noon.
was not Frost, for on my Flesh
I felt - crawl -
Nor Fire - for just my feet
Could keep a Chancel, cool -
And yet, tasted, like them all,
The Figures I have seen
orderly, for Burial
Reminded me, of mine -
As my life were shaven,
And fitted to a frame,
could not breathe without a key,
And ’twas like Midnight, some -
When everything that ticked - has stopped -
And space stares - all around -
Or Grisly - first Autumn morns,
Repeal the Beating Ground -
most, like Chaos - Stopless - cool -
Without Chance, or spar -
Or even a Report of -
To justify - Despair.