“I measure every Grief I meet” by Emily Dickinson
While at first glance Emily Dickinson’s “I measure every Grief I meet” appears to be a comparison – almost, perhaps, a competition – between her own pain and that of others, her stumbling and disconnected lines pair with her emotional tones to show that she finds grief to be a unifying force, both to comfort oneself and find depth in people we otherwise only see superficially.
The poem begins with an almost scientific tone, as Dickinson introduces the central theme of grief – capitalized for its significance – and the idea of searching for the feeling in others. She effectively narrows the focus and tone of the piece with her first four lines in a contradiction of topic and tone: discussing the heavy and emotional aspects of grief with a “narrow, probing lens” seems counterintuitive, until one understands Dickinson’s intentions. Her initial pondering of the emotional weight others carry and how it compares to her own – if it “has an Easier size” – seems at first as if she considers her own grief to be supreme, and measures it against that of others as if to prove her own suffering. However, it becomes clear as Dickinson continues that this is far from the truth, as she actually seeks to better understand those around her through close examination, in order to connect on a more personal level.
Indeed, this is confirmed when Dickinson creates a two-way path for connection in her relationship with those she observes. She considerately wonders if “They bore it long – or did it just begin,” capitalizing “They” in order to show that the subject of her ponderance is real and not theoretical. Moreover, the topic shifts to her own experiences, describing the age of her grief that “feels so old a pain.” This is no easy topic to discuss, but Dickinson offers some of her own pain and thoughts to her audience in an attempt to connect deeply and share fairly; as she asks to understand her audience’s emotions and suffering, she offers a vulnerability of her own.
Dickinson brings the third stanza with a weighted question and a lot of baggage. Beginning, comparatively lightly, with “I wonder whether it hurts to live – And if They have to try,” Dickinson opens up the idea that grief is timeless, and weighs one down long after its initial waves break against the shores. It is almost a need to validate her own struggles, wondering if others grapple with the endless weight of pain as she does, or if she is alone in her suffering. She is also finding the strength to recognize her own pain in others and to empathize with their emotional journey. By speaking exclusively about the other subject, “They,” for this particular stanza, Dickinson can distance her own emotions slightly from this clearly personal and loaded topic. This becomes painfully necessary in the second half of the stanza when Dickinson wonders “whether – could They choose between – It would not be – to die.” The dashes and shorter phrases here create a stumbling, hesitant tone that reveals how personal this is to Dickinson: the thought of choosing death over life, fear for her own future and those of others, fear for the choices she may make if she lets the weight of life overwhelm her.
Sharply changing the tone, Dickinson next moves into a moment of hope and a discussion of future healing. She “note[s] that Some – gone patient long – at length, renew their smile” and begin to find positive emotions in life once again. While slightly dashed with the notion that such feelings are “An imitation of a Light, That has so little Oil,” Dickinson suggests that there is hope for the future even if all will not be as it was before (something later explored in Derek Walcott’s “Dark August,” another discussion of grief and healing). Using the word “imitation” to describe the smiles and hope of those who wait out their grief with patience suggests that such gestures are hollow and insincere, as humans are incapable of fully recovering from grief. The “little Oil” fueling the “Light” – a symbol for healing and positivity – alludes to the low energy of depression, and the greater efforts that now go into a fleeting smile that once took no effort and lasted longer.
In the following stanza, Dickinson’s words become more disconnected than previously, as she continues to consider the grieving process of others and how that may offer her some comfort. She wonders if “when Years have piled – some Thousands – on the Harm – that hurt them early – such a lapse Could give them any Balm.” The fragments of thoughts and ideas show that the concept of receiving some relief thanks to the passage of time is foreign to the poet, but something to consider and perhaps hope for nonetheless. The image of years piling on “the Harm” is reminiscent of applying weight and pressure to a wound – a life-saving process that prevents further damage, but may hurt in the short-term.
In an about face, Dickinson’s next stanza offers the alternative: the possibility that time offers no comfort and simply prolongs and even expands the initial pain. The smooth lines of this stanza, written with the least dashes of any stanza in the poem and a fluidity previously unseen, both visualize the smooth passage of time in a graph of grief and suggest Dickinson’s familiarity with the concept. Perhaps the years would change nothing, “go[ing] on aching still Through Centuries of Nerve – Enlightened to a Larger Pain.” The reference to nerves suggests a sensitivity and rawness to the subject, compounded with new wounds accrued over time. Such “larger pains” may be effects of a “Contrast to the Love,” hurts made starker and more painful from the juxtaposition to new brushes with gentleness and care.
Following Dickinson’s thoughts on the possible reactions and pathways that grievers follow, she opens her discussion back up to explore not only the diversity of the grieving process but also the way in which grief has different causes for everyone: it is widespread, diverse, and felt uniquely. Dickinson acknowledges that “the Grieved are many – I am told – there is the various Cause,” and although the falsehood of her being solitary in grief may be a new concept to the poet, she still manages to find hope and unification in the idea. The causes may be diverse but the effects are felt widely. While death is a brief event, “Grief of Want – and Grief of Cold – A sort they call ‘Despair,’” and isolation are all prolonged experiences that invoke their own kinds of grief. While grief is a universal experience, Dickinson acknowledges that it is different for everyone; this idea greatly opens up the possibility for sharing weights and finding validation in similar struggles in others.
This idea of sharing and validation finds further footholds in the following stanza, in which Dickinson brings her discussion full circle. She admits to the fallibility of her scientific approach to observing grief in others, yet “a piercing Comfort it affords In passing Cavalry.” This is a crucial distinction for Dickinson. Instead of referring to her audience or subject as “They” or simply by their grief, she recognizes them as a cavalry. This shows Dickinson’s feeling of camaraderie in pain and grief, as herself and those she passes are all fighting against the weight of their suffering, fighting for hope and a better future. It shows that she is measuring grief in an attempt to feel comfort and familiarity, to remind herself that she is not alone in her struggle and doesn’t have to continue carrying her pain alone.
The final stanza recognizes a community to which Dickinson finds examples of emotional healing and a continued excitement to find others like herself. The symbols of the church, like the cross, represent themes of sacrifice and pain, love and peace – themes that Dickinson struggles with and strives for. These symbols are once again described as observances of those she passes – griefs she meets – and show that Dickinson is comforted by others’ expressions of faith and hope for the future. The final line ends with an expression of hope and a dash instead of a period, expressing a hesitant and shocked belief in the idea that “some – are like my own -” and an open-ended statement awaiting response; the last line sees Dickinson finally reaching out to experience an engagement with “They” and those that can commiserate.
Dickinson’s “I measure every Grief I meet” provides a deep exploration of the grieving process and its personal nuances for the poet. More importantly, the poem expresses that one is not alone in grief and pain – one can find others who feel similarly and accept the support waiting in those we would otherwise not look at too closely.