The Overtakelessness of Those

The Overtakelessness of Those
Who have accomplished Death —
Majestic is to me beyond
The Majesties of Earth —
The Soul her "Not at Home"
Inscribes upon the Flesh,
And takes a fine aerial gait
Beyond the Writ of Touch.


     -Fr894, J1691, 1865


There is a great song on the new Jeff Tweedy album called “Lou Reed was my Babysitter” and the chorus goes,

The dead don't die, the dead don't die
The dead don't die, the dead don't die
Whoo!

That’s the gist of this poem. Once you are dead you can’t die. You can’t be overtaken. You have accomplished “Overtakelessness.” Whoo!

One might take “death” as metaphoric in this poem. Once you can “accomplish” an egoless state, the death of self, you cannot be overtaken because there is nothing to overtake. I think this is a valid reading. Dickinson does write a lot about death in life, like for instance in the poem which begins, “My life closed twice before its close.” However there is a line in this poem that takes it out of the realm of the metaphoric,

The Soul her "Not at Home"
Inscribes upon the Flesh,

Here we are reminded of that odd sense we get when we look at a body in the casket; the flesh is there, but the soul is gone. So this is actual death we are talking about here then, a body without an animating spirit.

What to make of the fact that Emily brings a light touch to all of this? A “Not at Home” sign? That’s practically cute. It would make a fun gravestone engraving. And the rest of this poem is full of lively flourishes too, like “a fine aerial gate.” There is nothing morbid in that line. It’s as if the poet, already free from her the weight of her flesh, is feeling giddy. Giddy up! 

The poem itself has a fine aerial gait. 

But at the same time there is, underlining the flourish and humor, a real sadness. First, Emily never quite had the Home she wanted (see the poem written about the same time as this one, Fr891, for a heartbreaking account of this). The soul is “Not at Home," which is another way of saying: homeless.

Also there is that ending,

Beyond the Writ of Touch.

A writ is a formal court order commanding a person to perform a specific action. It serves as a powerful legal directive, often used in emergency situations when no other adequate remedy exists. So "Beyond the Writ of Touch" is a way of saying, I think, beyond the excruciating demand of need. 

So this poem, like much of Dickinson's poetry, is double-sided. It has pain behind its lightness, but also a lightness which runs ahead of its pain. It reminds me of the ending of Fr372, "First—Chill—then Stupor—then the letting go—" It’s so hard to let go. It feels like dying. But once you do, you are free. Is this tragic or joyful? For Dickinson (“me”) it is Majestic.

Majestic is to me beyond
The Majesties of Earth —

There’s an irony here. If you look at the poem before this one in Franklin order, F893, she refers to Sue and herself as Sovereign People. They are Majesty. The reason that the majesty of death is better than the majesty of the earth is merely because the majesty of the earth can’t last, and that's painful. We can’t keep in “touch” with it, not even by writ of court order. And this is especially true if the other won't, or for some reason can't, return our affection. There is a constant tension in Dickinson’s poetry between her passionate love, which she felt so keenly, and the tremendous effort to let go. 

Meanwhile, as sad as this is, it's great to see Dickinson having...fun? 

      -/)dam Wade l)eGraff

P.S. The poet Peter Gizzi liked the word "Overtakelessness" so much that he used it as a title for a terrific poem.

P.P.S. And speaking of fun, give a listen to the Jeff Tweedy song I mentioned above, "Lou Reed was my Babysitter."