After great pain, a formal feeling comes
Emily Dickinson, 1929
Emily Dickinson's poem on the numb, formal calm that follows great pain.
After great pain a formal feeling comes—The nerves sit ceremonious like tombs;The stiff Heart questions—was it He that bore?And yesterday—or centuries before?
The feet mechanical go roundA wooden wayOf ground or air or Ought,Regardless grown,A quartz contentment like a stone.
This is the hour of leadRemembered if outlivedAs freezing persons recollectThe snow—First chill, then stupor, thenThe letting go.