Sovereignty

I guess Emily Dickinson answered the questions I posed at the end of my last post.  What it would be like to find yourself at the top of your To Do list?  It would be ceding from the union that is our cultural consciousness.  It would be sovereignty... like wearing a crown... like becoming the queen.  It would be acquiescing to the truth that in order to live your life... to make your choices... must set down the definitions and names others have handed you... in favor of your own truth.

I'm ceded—I've stopped being Theirs

I'm ceded—I've stopped being Theirs--
The name They dropped upon my face
With water, in the country church
Is finished using, now,
And They can put it with my Dolls,
My childhood, and the string of spools,
I've finished threading—too--

Baptized, before, without the choice,
But this time, consciously, of Grace--
Unto supremest name--
Called to my Full—The Crescent dropped--
Existence's whole Arc, filled up,
With one small Diadem.

My second Rank—too small the first--
Crowned—Crowing—on my Father's breast--
A half unconscious Queen--
But this time—Adequate—Erect,
With Will to choose, or to reject,
And I choose, just a Crown— 



Emily Dickinson