Emily Dickinson was an artmonk (2)

The Soul has Bandaged moments —
When too appalled to stir —
She feels some ghastly Fright come up
And stop to look at her —

Salute her — with long fingers —
Caress her freezing hair —
Sip, Goblin, from the very lips
The Lover— hovered — o’er —
Unworthy, that a thought so mean
Accost a Theme — so — fair —

The soul has moments of Escape —
When bursting all the doors —
She dances like a Bomb, abroad,
And swings upon the Hours,

As do the Bee — delirious borne —
Long Dungeoned from his Rose —
Touch Liberty — then know no more,
But Noon, and Paradise —

The Soul’s retaken moments —
When, Felon led along,
With shackles on the plumed feet,
And staples, in the Song,

The Horror welcomes her, again,
These, are not brayed(1) of Tongue —

Notes:

[1. “For a poet to conceive images and phrases that can be said to ‘bray,’ which are equivalents of the harsh, grating, dissonant sounds made by donkeys, in order to say what is too terrible to be said, would be like a singer attempting sounds the human voice cannot make without risk to itself and could possibly damage the psyche permanently.” Link]