A Reflection…
Emily Dickinson’s 479th Poem is one of my top five favorite poems.
I find myself quoting parts of it practically weekly as a sort of morbid yet comforting prayer that comforts me in regard to the future.
This current timeline of wars, artificial intelligence, and growing tastes of fascist ideology can indoctrinate anyone into perceiving the world as a hellscape of death, genocide, and rot—and, if we’re honest, it is exactly those things for those who have lived it. I wish I could erase those mortifying and tragic events from history where humanity acted on their worst sins: genocides, slavery, and any assault on human rights.
Although I do not condone ending our only lives on purpose, Death and Eternal Rest can very well be a satisfying alternative when the hardships are overwhelming.
Dickinson’s poem reminds me of Santa Muerte, Our Lady of Holy Death. She is a folk saint of Mexico who promises safe passage into the afterlife. She protects and heals, just as Dickinson’s grim reaper who guides her to eternal rest or life—whatever that might look like.
I wonder sometimes if death lifts us up to a plane beyond one-sighted earthly materials. Houses are little blips in the ground, and time is relative.
