Read What You Cannot See

Erma reads it, looks at the video clip, and laughs. “I’m fairly certain Emily was talking about how poetry set her free.”

Sylvia, at first nodding in placid agreement, then quips, “Well, you got the gist, Erma. Others might, too, if they read and don’t just look at the pictures.”

Ever the realist, Erma tells Sylvia that she might be hoping for too much. “People want quick, easy, not too much thinking.”

“I know, Syl, but just for today – this last Monday in June – I’m putting aside my cynicism and counting on all of the women who are ready to set aside convention and set themselves free.”

Erma, once again tickled by Sylvia’s newfound optimism, has one final thought to leave with her friend before she heads back home. “From dirty to flirty, lickety-split? I guess that’s not too prosaic, although I’d hardly call it poetic.”
πŸ¦πŸ¦šπŸ’πŸ¦πŸ¦šπŸ’πŸ¦πŸ¦š
They shut me up in Prose –

As when a little Girl

They put me in the Closet –

Because they liked me β€œstill” –

Still! Could themself have peeped –

And seen my Brain – go round –

They might as wise have lodged a Bird

For Treason – in the Pound –

Himself has but to will

And easy as a Star

Look down upon Captivity –

And laugh – No more have I –
~Emily Dickinson

Author: kayymorgan

A fifty-something year-old woman who is learning that sometimes all we have is ourselves, so it's important not to get lost. And if you get lost, sometimes a little bit of social media can save you for a while while you find your way back, your way forward, or your way out and onto the new you.

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