Poetry Highlight: XXV by Emily Dickinson

No rack can torture me

My soul’s at liberty

Behind this mortal bone

There knits a bolder one

You cannot prick with saw

Nor rend with scimitar

Two bodies therefore be;

Bind one, and one will flee.

The eagle of his nest

No easier divest

And gains the sky

Than mayest thou,

Except thyself may be

Thine enemy;

Captivity is consciousness,

So’s liberty.

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