Poetry Friday - I can wade grief

I've discovered this week that I seem to have lost my little book of Emily Dickinson's poems, to my grief. But perhaps that is the excuse to get a copy of her complete poems, because reading poetry online is simply not the same and never will be.

This is a poem about how sometimes we know less what to do with joy than sorrow.

I CAN wade grief,

Whole pools of it,—

I’m used to that.

But the least push of joy

Breaks up my feet,

And I tip—drunken.

Let no pebble smile,

’Twas the new liquor,—

That was all!

Power is only pain,

Stranded, through discipline,

Till weights will hang.

Give balm to giants,

And they’ll wilt, like men.

Give Himmaleh,—

They’ll carry him!

Emily Dickinson

Note: Himmaleh would seem to be a reference to a mountain.

Photo from http://www.massculturalcouncil.org/blog/artsake