Suzie Grogan, the writer formerly known as KeatsBabe (sorry, Suzie, I couldn’t resist the Prince reference) has been writing about depression, recovery and art for some time now. You may remember back in October, the promotion of her book Dandelions and Bad Hair Days. I was tickled to be the voice for this Keats-lover’s poem about the Lake Country where that Romantic poet found solace for his soul, most especially because Suzie and I cyber-met when she commented on one of my YouTube poetry readings, Keats’ “To Autumn.”
She’s currently working on a new book entitled Shell Shocked Britain. Frightening how many men were shot by firing squad for “cowardice” when in fact they were suffering very real emotional trauma. I’m looking forward to reading her thoughts and research results on this topic, as well as a related follow-up book that she has already been commissioned to write for 2015.
You can also check out Suzie’s writing blog here, where she’s posted a very inspiring poem about reading by the great poetry master Dr. Seuss. “A Library is a Hospital for the Mind.” Ain’t that the truth!
Suzie also writes for The Terrace, a blog for the counseling and therapy center by the same name in Taunton, Somerset. Earlier this past week she posted a brief discussion of a poem by Emily Dickinson, “We Grow Accustomed to the Dark.” I had almost forgotten about this one, and were it not for Suzie’s slightly more positive spin on it, I would have kept my darker view, that pain is just something we get used to, something we don’t recover from, but a darkness in which we “grope around” until we are “almost” okay with it. Yeah, I can be that dark in my thoughts sometimes.
But Suzie wrote that in this poem she sees the possibility of “hope and facing your fears, meeting challenges and finding a way through.” So I had to take a closer look. Scroll down for the text of the poem, there below my SoundCloud recording. Go ahead–I’ll wait.
Alright now, isn’t there something to the statement that we get used to the dark only “when light is put away?” It’s not just that you cannot get used to the dark until it gets dark; it’s not merely something that you experience passively, but actively; you have to put it away. Am I reading too much into this?
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Goodbye
It’s a deliberate act, isn’t it? More than just an automatic adjustment to the situation, more than the old idea that you don’t know good without bad, or darkness without light, this is a conscious attempt to adjust to darkness, moving the lamp a certain way until your eyes adjust. The first steps may be “uncertain,” but they seem resolved, and we
fit our Vision to the Dark –
And meet the Road — erect –
(Emphasis mine) This isn’t chance. This is choice, head held high I think. And it didn’t sink in to me until I was writing this how delightful it is that she called darkness in our brains a “larger” darkness than the darkness of the physical world in the night. How appropriate for the poet who asserted that “The Brain is wider than the sky?” The more I read this the more I think Suzie is right. How interesting that bravery is associated with groping, even at the risk smacking your forehead against a tree in the attempt.
Artistically, this poem stands out for me as very modern (She and Whitman were doing very different, but very new things with American poetry). It’s not just the dashes, but the unusual enjambment of lines for such metered work. “Something in the sight / adjusts itself to midnight.” For poems, like many of hers, that can be sung to the same meter as hymns like “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God,” this is itself a brave move away from lines that stop decisively at the end of phrases.
I could go on and on digesting this lovely poem piece by piece, but I’d like to hear your insights, and do you think her last stanza is a contradiction to what I said about making deliberate choices?
This discussion started with Suzie’s prompt to think about this in terms of how we handle the dark parts of life, depression, sadness, loss. Considering some of my recent posts, you can imagine why this poem spoke so intently to me.
We grow accustomed to the Dark–Emily Dickinson (1830 to 1886)
We grow accustomed to the Dark –
When light is put away –
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Goodbye –
A Moment — We uncertain step
For newness of the night –
Then — fit our Vision to the Dark –
And meet the Road — erect –
And so of larger — Darkness –
Those Evenings of the Brain –
When not a Moon disclose a sign –
Or Star — come out — within –
The Bravest — grope a little –
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead –
But as they learn to see –
Either the Darkness alters –
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight –
And Life steps almost straight.
Related articles
- Can we grow ‘accustomed to the dark’? – Emily Dickinson & facing your fears (theterraceclinic.wordpress.com)
- The Brain – a Poem by Emily Dickinson (katerauner.wordpress.com)
- Emily Dickinson Analysis: “A word dropped careless on a page” (1873) (3hrs.co)
- From Open Me Carefully, a collection of letters from Emily Dickinson to Susan (seraphineturnerblog.wordpress.com)
- Sunday Poem: Emily Dickinson and the Experiment of Consciousness (thefinchandpea.com)
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