I've dropped my Brain -- My Soul is numb --

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I've dropped my Brain -- My Soul is numb --
The Veins that used to run
Stop palsied -- 'tis Paralysis
Done perfecter on stone

Vitality is Carved and cool.
My nerve in Marble lies --
A Breathing Woman
Yesterday -- Endowed with Paradise.

Not dumb -- I had a sort that moved --
A Sense that smote and stirred --
Instincts for Dance -- a caper part --
An Aptitude for Bird --

Who wrought Carrara in me
And chiselled all my tune
Were it a Witchcraft -- were it Death --
I've still a chance to strain

To Being, somewhere -- Motion -- Breath --
Though Centuries beyond,
And every limit a Decade --
I'll shiver, satisfied.

© Emily Dickinson