It was not Death, for I stood up,
Emily Dickinson
It was not Death, for I stood up,
And all the Dead, lie down -
It was not Night, for all the Bells
Put out their Tongues, for Noon.
It was not Frost, for on my Flesh
I felt Siroccos - crawl -
Nor Fire - for just my marble feet
Could keep a Chancel, cool -
And yet, it tasted, like them all,
The Figures I have seen
Set orderly, for Burial
Reminded me, of mine -
As if my life were shaven,
And fitted to a frame,
And could not breathe without a key,
And ’twas like Midnight, some -
When everything that ticked - has stopped -
And space stares - all around -
Or Grisly frosts - first Autumn morns,
Repeal the Beating Ground -
But most, like Chaos - Stopless - cool -
Without a Chance, or spar -
Or even a Report of Land -
To justify - Despair.
, VOCABULARY
For - because
Siroccos - mediterranean winds
Chancel - an altar in a church
Orderly - organised, in order
‘twas - it was
Grisly - causing horror, gruesome
Stopless - without stopping
Spar - a process of fighting, arguing or debating
STORY/SUMMARY
Stanza 1: It wasn’t death, for I stood up, and all dead people lie down - It wasn’t night,
because all the bells were ringing to signal noon.
Stanza 2: It wasn’t frost, because I felt the winds crawling on my flesh - nor was it fire,
because even my marble feet were able to keep a church altar cool.
Stanza 3: Yet, it felt like Death - it felt like all of these types of destruction at once
(fire, frost and night), the figures I’ve seen before that were set up in an organised
manner, as prepared for burial, reminded me of my own self and my own burial -
Stanza 4: It was as if my life had been shaved down and fit within a frame, and I
couldn’t breathe without a key to unlock myself, and it felt like Midnight.
Stanza 5: When everything that used to tick - has stopped - and an empty blank space
stares at me, all around, or grisly frosts on the first mornings of Autumn stop the
beating ground from moving.
Stanza 6: But mostly it was like Chaos - endless - cold - without any chance to
change, or an opportunity to spar and fight with it, or even a report of its landscape
Emily Dickinson
It was not Death, for I stood up,
And all the Dead, lie down -
It was not Night, for all the Bells
Put out their Tongues, for Noon.
It was not Frost, for on my Flesh
I felt Siroccos - crawl -
Nor Fire - for just my marble feet
Could keep a Chancel, cool -
And yet, it tasted, like them all,
The Figures I have seen
Set orderly, for Burial
Reminded me, of mine -
As if my life were shaven,
And fitted to a frame,
And could not breathe without a key,
And ’twas like Midnight, some -
When everything that ticked - has stopped -
And space stares - all around -
Or Grisly frosts - first Autumn morns,
Repeal the Beating Ground -
But most, like Chaos - Stopless - cool -
Without a Chance, or spar -
Or even a Report of Land -
To justify - Despair.
, VOCABULARY
For - because
Siroccos - mediterranean winds
Chancel - an altar in a church
Orderly - organised, in order
‘twas - it was
Grisly - causing horror, gruesome
Stopless - without stopping
Spar - a process of fighting, arguing or debating
STORY/SUMMARY
Stanza 1: It wasn’t death, for I stood up, and all dead people lie down - It wasn’t night,
because all the bells were ringing to signal noon.
Stanza 2: It wasn’t frost, because I felt the winds crawling on my flesh - nor was it fire,
because even my marble feet were able to keep a church altar cool.
Stanza 3: Yet, it felt like Death - it felt like all of these types of destruction at once
(fire, frost and night), the figures I’ve seen before that were set up in an organised
manner, as prepared for burial, reminded me of my own self and my own burial -
Stanza 4: It was as if my life had been shaved down and fit within a frame, and I
couldn’t breathe without a key to unlock myself, and it felt like Midnight.
Stanza 5: When everything that used to tick - has stopped - and an empty blank space
stares at me, all around, or grisly frosts on the first mornings of Autumn stop the
beating ground from moving.
Stanza 6: But mostly it was like Chaos - endless - cold - without any chance to
change, or an opportunity to spar and fight with it, or even a report of its landscape
