We are the only poets, and everyone else is prose.
—Emily Dickinson, in a letter to Susan Gilbert
It is perhaps an inner drum,
the meter of the soul
that sometimes finds a resonance
inside another’s halls—
an inner song, an inner scheme
that rhymes with someone else’s,
a dream that scans like heartbeats
inside the other’s pulse.
Yes in this world of counterfeit,
such thrill to find a poem
that redefines Circumference—
and curious, leads us home.
for more on the love letters and life-changing love of Emily Dickinson, read the fabulous Brain Pickings by Maria Popova,
https://mailchi.mp/brainpickings/emily-dickinson-love-letters?e=ea2d3e439a