Caesura as it pertains to light and dark—

As Dickinson and
Her slant of light or cathedral
tunes
bleak grey dawn
[at first read-through] seems to ooze
out the open-form-syntax
of your verse.
dismal?
not quite.
dismissive?
absolutely antithetical.
dark.
No.
not melancholic-martyrdom.
not sad hurt.
yet
Contemplative.
pain, present.
anger, present.
sadness, present.
at center—beautiful,
Red-Black-Truth—
sticky with marrow.
blood-red-black.
Yes.

Truth.
Headily-carnivorous, its brand-welt
bleeds deeply
seeping across the page.
Look at the soft, raised-edge
scar tissue—
Touch it.
Feel the wince—
Through the bright-pink-healing mound.
Push the pain.
Feel the truth.

Later,
When the scar visibly heals;
Phantom fragments of
Sensory feeling and
Simultaneous
Numbness.
Close your eyes—capture your breath—there.
See even more than truth.
Look beyond.
Past the seeming—oozing bleak grey dawn,
Ahh, there.
Yes. an orange-hot
rim of sun
light.
streams delicately through
curtained-seams.
Amber light
Long vertical streaks
Illuminate the vast landscape of your
Beautiful, precise, mind.