Dedicated to one of the greats; Miss Dickinson, i hope you don't roll over in your grave at the absurdity.
Peace is the Light
Peace is the light at Goshen
That weaves between the dorms
And floats among the branch that lists
In every -- Winter -- storm --
And closest -- in the classroom -- it winds
And hurt must be the war --
That tries to come to this old school
That's been for so many a door --
I've felt it on the bleakest night --
And in the longest week --
No homework, test, or drought of love
could tear this peace -- from me.
A skillful weaving of Dickinson's style with Goshen context and a winsome element of your own.
ReplyDeleteI really like this reinterpretation because it brings up a vivid image of a few nights ago when I was walking from the dorms to the music center. There was a dense layer of fog hanging low and the tips of the lamp-posts were shining through it like little miniature suns suspended in midair. Your first stanza does a great job of conjuring up that scene for me.
ReplyDelete