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Sunday, May 1, 2011


That's the way I've been feeling lately. I have few social obligations and when health keeps me housebound, I feel cut off and wonder if I'm battling demon depression.

But I don't want to dwell on that so I decided to look at a famous recluse/writer: Emily Dickinson. And the little I've done blows me away. So I thought I would use her words to describe some of my recent experiences.

Glee! The storm is over!
For me, that's the latest "storm" of edits which I completed on Lone Star Trail. I don't want to complain so let's just say they were thorough ... exhaustive ... and I was glad to turn them in on Friday.

If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry.
I am judging in the Carol contest again this year ... so far a couple of books have had that effect on me.

They say that God is everywhere, and yet we always think of Him as somewhat of a recluse.
A couple of weeks ago I wrote about spiritual drought--I appreciated everyone's feedback. Things are a little better.

Forever is composed of nows.
Jolene used to say the best advice I gave her was "seize the day." I woke her up at midnight on Millenium Eve--how few people in all of history have experienced it! Dickinson captured the same thought, in words of poetry.

And thinking of Jolene, and Mom, how about--Parting is all we know of heaven and all we need of hell.

Old age comes on suddenly, and not gradually as is thought.
I am aged before my years. I find myself turning into my mother. This week I had a ramp installed at the house so I no longer have to fear the stairs.

And for a final thought ... as beautiful a statement of purpose as I have ever read ... consider the poet's words: If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin Unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain

Happy May Day.


Susan Page Davis said...

Beautiful and thought-provoking, Darlene. Here's one of my favorites of hers:
I'll tell you how the sun rose,
A ribbon at a time.
The steeples swam in amethyst,
The news like squirrels ran.
The hills untied their bonnets,
The bobolinks begun.
Then I said softly to myself,
"That must have been the sun!"
But how he set, I know not.
There seemed a purple stile
Which little yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while
Till when they reached the other side,
A dominie in gray
Put gently up the evening bars,
And led the flock away.

Kameko said...

Darlene, your post today was just what I needed. Emily Dickinson's writings are wonderful and thought-provoking as Susan said.

Thank YOU for your insightful writing coupled with Emily's poems. I hope the ramp helps with your comings and goings at home & that your days of being a "hermit" are numbered.


Darlene Franklin said...

Hey, Susan, thanks for coming by. Beverly, glad the post helped. (insightful words? my my)