[Torie]

My brother has just been diagnosed with Oropharyngeal cancer. He tells me this Dickinson poem had resonance with his own emotions in tying to come to terms with it.

As it happens, my brother composed a symphonic work with two singers, a piano and chello, with this poem as its theme. In the end, the piano trials off into random discordant notes and - - then - - ends. He is now going to go about getting his worked performed in San Francisco, and invite family, friends and colleagues to join him.

There is always a "then" for each of us, but in his case, one of those "then's," for him, is going to be an opportunity for him to "hear" his piece, in other than his own head.

He is going to do it, sooner rather than later - - and if it be so, will finish knowing.

Be good to your troop - - whilst you can. Best.

[onyx]

((( Torie )))

I'm so sorry and you and your cherished brother have my prayers. You're such a dear FRiend to me, I am teary eyed reading the poem of such sweet sentiment.

[Dog Gone]

I'm sorry to hear that, Torie. I had to look it up to find out what kind of cancer that was.

I'd like to hear his work, but I'm afraid it would make me sad, too.

Best wishes to both you and him. It can be tough out there.

[johnny7]

My prayers for your brother...

[Allegra]

Prayers up for your brother and for you.

[Sunsong]

I am so sorry to hear this. I include you, your brother and his family and loved ones in my prayers.

[pandoraou812]

Prayers for you brother & family ~~Pandora~~

[Mo1]

Sending thoughts and prayers for your brother, you and your entire family

[MS.BEHAVIN]

Prayers lifted for you and your brother,Torie..
Ms.B

[veronica]

Wishing you and your brother strength and faith. How marvelous that he will get to hear his musical creation come to life. FYI - Emily Dickinson's poems have touched many very deeply. The extraordinary writer/poet Anne Morrow Lindbergh entitled her diary, which chronicles the emotions and thoughts she had when her child was kidnapped, "Hour of Gold, Hour of Lead" after the Dickinson poem below. She kept this diary for many months during the events, then put it away for years, only to rediscover it and barely remember writing it. She finally published it in 1973.

After great pain, a formal feeling comes--

The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs--

The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,

And Yesterday, or Centuries before?

The feet, mechanical, go round-

Of Ground, or Air, or Ought--

A Wooden way

Regardless grown,

A Quartz contentment, like a stone--

This is the Hour of Lead--

Remembered, if outlived,

As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow--

First--Chill--then Stupor--then the letting go.

[VeritatisSplendor]

Prayers for your brother, Torie.

Mrs VS

[jwalsh07]

Be good to your troop - - whilst you can. Best.

Wisdom in these words. While I may not have the appreciation for the fine arts that you have, I have a deep appreciation for the sentiment you expressed above my friend.

God be with you and yours always.