I felt a Cleaving in my Mind – As if my Brain had split – I tried to match it – Seam by Seam – But could not make them fit.

The thought behind, I strove to join Unto the thought before – But Sequence raveled out of Sound Like Balls – upon a Floor.

-Fr867, J937, 1864

I felt a Cleaving in my Mind – As if my Brain had split –*

That word split is often used with visceral force by Emily Dickinson, as in the start of the the amazing poem of hers which begins, “Split the lark - and you’ll find the music-” Violence can be felt in the very sound of the word: SPLIT. Splat.

The meaning of the word is rich too. There is a doubleness to "split." Something breaks, but in breaking it also gains in possibility. (Read the post on Fr849 for a deeper discussion on the word).

Cleave is another interesting word because it has a doubleness too. Cleave is a contranym, meaning it can denote two opposite things at once. It can mean coming together as well as coming apart. In this case it seems to be the latter, a cleaving apart, but maybe that third line, “I tried to match it,” hints at the other meaning, two parts cleaving back together.

What could have split Emily’s mind? Loyalty to two opposing ideals? There is all of that push and pull between herself and marriage, or herself and religion, or (you fill in the blank.) There is the possibility that something badly wounded Emily, someone close to her, which fractured her mind. To feel betrayed by love might do it.

I tried to match it Seam by Seam.

A few poems back, in Fr860, we had the phrase “Rime by Rime,” which was a pun of rhyme by rhyme, a sly reference to poetry. I think this is a further echo of the same idea. Seam by Seam is the brain trying to match itself at the seams, but it is also, perhaps, a stitching together in poetry. To sew together verses even as you are dealing with a torn-apart and tattered mind seems to be at the heart of this poem. And there’s the other echo here, which is the pun on "seem."

“Seems, madam! nay it is; I know not ‘seems.’” says Hamlet, as his mind is splitting apart.

Following the word “Seams” is another rich word that is often found in Dickinson’s poems: “fit.”

But could not make them fit.

Words in Dickinson function like planets around a sun. You can’t quite get to the sun, but the definitions and connotations orbiting around it create a solar system. "Fit" is one of those words. See Fr686 for a good example of the complexities of the word “Fit.”

But of course “fit” here goes in two different directions too. The content of the poem is about not fitting, but everything in the form fits perfectly. Just look how perfectly in this poem “fit” rhymes here with “split”!

The thought behind, I strove to join Unto the thought before –

It is a mind divided. But what is the divide? The poem doesn’t answer that question. Perhaps the divide is between want and need? Or between reason and love? Or (you fill in the blank).

But Sequence raveled out of Sound

Not only do the thoughts not fit together, but they are, somehow, out of sequence.

The word “Sound” here has a few possibilities. Sound as in noise, as in, the thoughts went out beyond sound and into silence, out into no thought.

But Sound can also mean measurement, like sounding the depths of the water. The sequence goes out beyond measure.

Sound can also mean sense, as in, a sound mind. The mind is going out of the realm of reason. There is no more sequence because reason is gone.

Ravel is yet another contranym of sorts. Ravel seems like it would mean the opposite of unravel, and sometimes it does, but usually it means the same as unravel, as I believe it does here.

But again, like we saw with cleaving apart to cleaving together, and in not fitting being fitting, there is a raveling together here in the form of the poem itself. The brain may be unwinding like a ball of yarn, but there is a winding up the yarn too, you might say, in the tight form and perfect end-rhymes of the poem.

Like Balls – upon a Floor.

These balls must refer to balls of yarn, or thread, being used to try to seam the thoughts together. The startling image here is of a woman attempting to sew, but her mind being so out of sorts that she drops the balls off her lap, just lets them go, where they unroll themselves on the floor. Note that ball is plural here, as if several threads have been dropped. Ball made plural also makes you think of a juggler having dropped all of the balls at once.

There is a letting go of the balls of thought here. The poem, with its contranyms, “cleave,” and “ravel,” is itself a contranym. It can be read as pointing toward a loss or a gain, depending on how you look at it. You can read the poem, in the frame of its poetry, as call to drop the balls and just watch them roll.

And yet, paradoxically, even as the mind is, for better or worse, coming apart, marvelously, the poem comes together.

-/)dam Wade l)eGraff