Emancipation (Dickinson)
by Emily Dickinson (1830–1886) English
No rack can torture me,
My soul 's at liberty.
Behind this mortal bone
There knits a bolder one
You cannot prick with saw,
Nor rend with scymitar.
Two bodies therefore be ;
Bind one, and one will flee.
The eagle of his nest
No easier divest
And gain the sky,
Than mayest thou.
Except thyself may be
Thine enemy ;
Captivity is consciousness,
So 's liberty.
More poems by Emily Dickinson
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Because I could not stop for Death—
He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves— …
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There is a pain — so utter —
It swallows substance up —
Then covers the Abyss with Trance — …
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A charm invests a face
Imperfectly beheld.
The lady dare not lift her veil …
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There came a Wind like a Bugle —
It quivered through the Grass
And a Green Chill upon the Heat …
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