Poetry

There Is A Word by Emily Dickinson


There is a word
Which bears a sword
can pierce an armed man.

It hurls its barbed syllables, —
At once is mute again.
But where it fell
The saved will tell
On patriotic day,
Some epauletted brother
Gave his breath away.

Wherever runs the breathless sun,
Wherever roams the day,
There is its victory!
Behold the keenest marksman!
Time’s sublimest target
Is a soul “forgot”!

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HydraGT

Social media scholar. Troublemaker. Twitter specialist. Unapologetic web evangelist. Explorer. Writer. Organizer.

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