Before I was falling, I was flying

Essay in 12 Steps | NINE | There is a pain so utter that it swallows substance up. Then covers the abyss with trance— So memory can step around—across—upon it. ~Emily Dickinson

There is a pain so utter that it swallows substance up

Then covers the abyss with trance—

So memory can step around—across—upon it

As one within a swoon goes safely where an open-eye would drop him—

—Bone by bone

~Emily Dickinson