Suspense—is Hostiler than Death—

Suspense—is Hostiler than Death—
Death—tho'soever Broad,
Is Just Death, and cannot increase—
Suspense—does not conclude—

But perishes—to live anew—
But just anew to die—
Annihilation—plated fresh
With Immortality—


      -FR775, J705, Fascicle 37, 1863


Suspense—is Hostiler than Death—

Death is final. There is nothing hostile about it, really. Death isn't scary. It's the anticipation of death that is terrifying. You could apply this logic to any finality, like, say, the finality of a relationship. One way you can read this poem is to learn to accept the end of things. 

Death—tho'soever Broad,
Is Just Death, and cannot increase—

Death is the broadest thing. It’s absolute. It’s so broad it covers all. But, in the end, it’s just death.

When you read the poems in the fascicles in order you watch Dickinson's mind move. In the poem that precedes this one, FR774, we note the lines, "An Altitude of Death, that could/ No bitterer debar/ Than Life” Death is something toward which we climb, because we are trying to climb out of life, which is more bitter than death. This is bleak, though I suppose it does offer, at least, the hope of “no more.” We see this line of thought continuing in this poem.

Suspense—does not conclude—

Death concludes, but Suspense, not so much. What is meant by suspense here? We are suspended in life, waiting to die. We are in suspense about what will happen after we die. We are in suspense about whether or not we will find love, or peace, in life. 

This poem seems to say that there can never be any real lasting peace in life.

There’s a apropos moment of suspense between the first and second stanza:

Suspense—does not conclude—

   

But perishes—to live anew—

Suspense does not conclude……..But perishes to live anew. It’s like a nightmare in which the fear just keeps returning. You end up in a circular hell,

But perishes—to live anew—
But just anew to die—

The worry goes away only to come back again, only so it can go away again. You can’t get rid of it, until you perish for good that is. Life is a state of constant tension and release. 

What’s a poor girl to do?

Annihilation—plated fresh
With Immortality—

These last two lines are tricky. I can see a few ways to take them. One way would be as a continuation of the preceding thought. The annihilation of suspense is "plated," or covered over, with Immortality. Suspense is always perishing, or being annihilated, and then coming back again, in what seems like an immortal loop. In other words, it feels like forever! 

There is also the possibility that she means these lines in the sense John Donne did when he wrote,

"One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die."

There is, perhaps, a hope of "Immortality" after death, a nod to some kind of afterlife, and the optimist in me certainly wants to believe this. But I think this poem is more about coming to terms with the endless recurrence of pain in life. The word "Immortality" is fascinating, especially as used by Dickinson. She wields it in so many ways. Here, though, I think she is using it in a darkly sarcastic way, pointing toward the apparent immortality of always returning to fear and worry.

The only thing that ever gets "born again," I fear, is fear, over and over again, until we are finally relieved of it by death.

Looking at that wonderful word in the second line, "tho'soever," makes me wonder if Dickinson is riffing off of the word “whosoever” in the famous scripture, John 3:15, “That whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life.” The word “perish” is here in this poem too, as well as the idea of eternal life, or immortality. It's the word "believeth" that is in question. Dickinson seems to have inverted the hopeful sense that is in the scripture. I don't believe Dickinson was a believer in an afterlife. Eternal life, in Dickinson’s brave telling, is, rather horribly, only the seemingly eternal return of suspense.

      -/)dam Wade l)eGraff

frame from 1919 film, "Suspense"