Brookstone Helicopter Troubles

The poem can be "healing"? A leaf

FEEL IN MY ROOM







I feel in my room


an invisible companion.


Its presence is not confirmed


by gesture or word.


Nor should place him:


is best courtesy


the hospitable intuition of his company.


Presence is the only freedom that you take.


neither he nor I are betraying the pact of silence.


bored him it would be strange, as


if the monotony


knew the atoms of the large spatial world.


do not know if other homes in


enter, if you retain


or not, but by instinct


I know his name


and "immortality."






EMILY DICKINSON 1863

At this very moment, I seem to add any word after the splendid perfection of Emily's poetry is almost a desecration, but is of little aun 'time that I realize how, in some particular moments, I come spontaneously to mind the verses.
I started to put more attention to this recurrent situation, and I realized that the "type" of the verses is not random in the way he presented: it has a direct link with what is known as a living and, in some way, represents a kind of "cure" for food, sevogliamo a real "emergency exit".
Now I wonder: why not "use" (ugly word, but appropriate) poetry to help us in all those little, or perhaps not so small, existential battles?
E 'better Prozac, spinel or the couch of a psychoanalyst?
We can not choose (forse..) Challenges to be addressed, but surely we have the freedom to choose the means and, above all, the quality of the means by which afforntarle.

A poem that I feel very successful and that, surprisingly reconciled with the idea of \u200b\u200bdeath (which is, ultimately, a peace with the idea of \u200b\u200bdeath) is the following (a poet, Pessoa, in general feel very similar).

Death is the bend in the road,



die is just not being seen.


If I listen, I hear your footsteps


exist as I exist.


The earth is made of sky.


has not nest lies.


Never lost no one came.


Everything is truth and passage.

Fernando Pessoa