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