Last Breath

I bought this flower
While holding your hand.

And here it sits--strange
How it lives in your absence.

Your fingerprints are everywhere.
The coffee cup your lips touched--

The way the blankets lay just so--
Blueprint for a sleepy body.

Wilting petals whisper
Memories, this dahlia exhales.

After great pain, a formal feeling comes

 

 

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 round –

A Wooden way

Of Ground, or Air, or Ought –

Regardless grown,

A Quartz contentment, like a stone –

This is the Hour of Lead –

Remembered, if outlived,

As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow –

First – Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go –

 

---Emily Dickenson