The Wind Went 'knock knock'

                “His memory knocked on the walls of my loneliness and I let it in. I was a host who would desperately hold the remembrance of his embrace by hand and offer it a chair to stay. It was loud enough to confuse me, to enchant me, and to motivate my will toward capturing it, the memory of his presence. Unfortunately, his memory knocked again; it was a weak, timid knock as if a goodbye. Leaving me alone between the walls of my emptiness, his memory flew by like a little butterfly; left me alone again.”

                Glory, Metaphor, and The Wind- tapped like a tired man are three different poems that we have been taking for the past two weeks at school. I’ve always appreciated the magic of poetry and the imposing art of literature, but I rarely find a prose or a poem that can honestly grab my full attention and increase my interest with every line it contains. The Wind- tapped like a tired man is certainly one of the most interesting poems that I’ve ever read. The way Emily Dickinson, the poem’s poet, describes the memory of her beloved and the way she feels about it possessed my senses into imagining the scene surrounding the poet. The meanings hidden within every line of every stanza inspired me to realize the significance of memories and the feelings they bring along. The poem also taught me that memories do survive and do keep us company sometimes; even if they never exist in the way matter does, they’ll always have an effect on us.