ORIGINAL POET:

An awful Tempest mashed the air—
The clouds were gaunt, and few—
A Black—as of a Spectre's Cloak
Hid Heaven and Earth from view.

The creatures chuckled on the Roofs—
And whistled in the air—
And shook their fists—
And gnashed their teeth—
And swung their frenzied hair.

The morning lit—the Birds arose—
The Monster's faded eyes
Turned slowly to his native coast—
And peace—was Paradise!

- EMILY DICKINSON

RESPONSE:

HOW QUIET THOSE NIGHTS OTHER THAN THAT

TO WISH FOR MORE OF THE SAME

TO NOT SEE THE EXTREMITIES

TO FOLLOW THE LEADERS AND TO TALK IN KEY

WHAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF IF NOT IRREGULAR

I FIND UNDER THE THIN EARTH

A HEART BEATS ON ANOTHER DARK NIGHT

YOUR OWN YET SOMBER WE NOT MOURN

WE HAVE LEARNED THAT WORDS LIVE ON

ON THIS DARK NIGHT AND ON

- Ryad Chaoui

Ryad Chaoui

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