I began to go through the books one by one and started a stack for myself on a nearby table. I was amazed by the number of books by the Billy Graham family. Someone must have owned every book written by them and donated the collection to the church. I chose only one from among those: an autobiography of Ruth Graham Bell.
A small paperback caught my eye: Emily Dickinson's Poems. Of course I knew the name and I knew she was a poet. I had probably studied a poem or two of hers in school. If I could bring one word to mind that I remembered about her poetry it was 'death'. Hmmmm. .25, why not?
I am overwhelmed at what I have discovered as I sit and delight in each poem. What a gift I have found, what a gift I have been given in these separate tiny treasures that combine to create a magnificent Pearl beyond price.
I sat last night and read through poem after poem, often exclaiming out loud, but most often just sensing a deep excitement at what I was reading. If you cannot tell already, I absolutely CELEBRATE Emily Dickinson's poems. As I read ,I was completely stopped in my tracks by one. It caught my breath away and sent my mind soaring in thankfulness to Him.
An altered look about the hills --Nicodemus' Mystery....John 3:4
A Tyrian light the village fills --
A wider sunrise in the morn --
A deeper twilight on the lawn --
A print of a vermillion foot --
A purple finger on the slope --
A flippant fly upon the pane --
A spider at his trade again --
An added strut in Chanticleer --
A flower expected everywhere --
An axe shrill singing in the woods --
Fern odors on untravelled roads --
All this and more I cannot tell --
A furtive look you know as well --
And Nicodemus' Mystery
Receives its annual reply!
'How can a man be born when he is old?'
There is so much to enjoy here....to see how Emily took the greatest question of all and formed it into a tapestry of poetic words that bring incredible imagery and understanding. This is what I would call an extraordinary commentary.
I had to turn to the "big" dictionary as I read through her poems and this was no exception. I had bare concepts of the words, but I knew that I was missing too much of her meaning unless I could fully understand the words.
Tyrian : vivid purple, red
Vermillion: scarlet red
Chanticleer: rooster
The more I contemplate this poem , the more I am amazed and thankful for finding these absolute jewels. In 16 short lines, she has encompassed seasons, beginnings and endings, creation, known and unknown, life and death, question and answer, His royalty, His gift, His grace and so much more.
What beauty. What incredible beauty God has given us.
I am beyond thankful for the discovery of these words that touch my soul and my mind.
I read back through the list of books I have accumulated over the summer and I find that in the very first batch I purchased a book of Emily's poems :) Nothing drew me to the book at that time....now is the time. That is one of the wonderful aspects of books....they line the shelves and stack the floors and wait. Everything in its time. And yet all these multitudes of words are nothing in comparison to the Word.
A Word made Flesh is seldom
And trembling partook
Nor then perhaps reported
But have I not mistook
Each one of us has tasted
With ecstasies of stealth
The very food debated
To our specific strength -
A Word that breathes distinctly
Has not the power to die
Cohesive as the Spirit
It may expire if He -
"Made Flesh and dwelt among us"
Could condescension be
Like this consent of Language
This loved Philology.
E.D.
