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The Mystery of Pain.
Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect when it began,
or if there were a day when it was not.
It has no future but itself,
Its infinite realms contain its past,
enlightened to perceive new periods of pain.
- By Emily Dickinson
;)
I realize this seems a bit of a more rare poem by Dickinson (even her name rings euphoniously in my ears :D).
As in many of Dickinson's poems, this particular poem carries the truth of suffering, misery, and transcendentalism, yet does not quite carry the theme of death so common in her poetry. This specific poem, if anything, greatly emphasizes the subjective hopelessness of pain, whether emotional or physical - enduring every dreadful moment, nearly never thriving to its end, and, of course, feeling as though it lasts longer than any pleasurable moment.
I read this poem wrong the first glance, replacing "I" for "It" in line two. A totally different poem, and marvelous at that! This was interesting in its own right. With "I" as the subject of line two, the work rang true to me about the way my disposition can change slowly, such that when I become cognizant of the pain, I do not know its precise origin. This poem is beautiful in her ability to express this more devastating, unmanageable sadness of depression!Quote:
Originally Posted by Jitu
Anyway, taking the poem, as Dickinson wrote it, we are gratified by the truth of "it" -- that pain is so immediate, overwhelming, and therefore self-centered that it cannot even bear to think about its own beginning. It is, as she says, "infinite", with no future -- and no past!