What happens when you die A poetic inquiry

Take a ride in Emily Dickinson’s chariot.

But beware… there’s no turning back.

“Because I could not stop for Death”
by Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –

The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –

We passed the School,
where Children strove

At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –

We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed Us –
The Dews drew quivering and Chill –

For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –

The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – ‘tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day

I first surmised the Horses’ Heads
Were toward Eternity –