I don’t see how anybody can read, “Morning is due to all – ”, by Emily Dickinson without at least a thought about whether or not to count oneself among the (difficult to identify, but) privileged few.

The all inclusive morning is right and proper for anyone and everyone.

A night “club,” like the Mediterranean’s 10,000 capacity “Privilege Ibiza,” slightly more exclusive. Definitely more so than democratic morning.

Morning is due to all –
To some – the Night –
To an imperial few –
The Auroral Light

I find an embedded dare, or challenge, in this small poem aimed at rousing me from self-satisfaction. Feelings of security, false or otherwise, may easily become part of my every-day attitude if there are no threats on the horizon to my well-being, such as a job loss or other personal tragedy. My practice of grabbing the morning light with hour-long walks before my day starts at about 7:30 a.m. fills me with Nature’s best fragrances, bird sounds and fresh attitudes among the few I meet. I like to think these self-appointed beginnings are respectable metaphors for life’s original stages. And, available to all.

We are all “created equal,” “Morning is due to all – ”. My own Western-religious and democratic political foundations for this idea means I tend to accept Dickinson’s expropriation of “morning” for equality.

The poem starts out by including everyone, then begins to narrow, slightly, the subject of its concern. “To some – the Night -” doesn’t say who has been deleted. Only that a team has formed from within the league of morning people. I tend to associate this franchise, “Night,” with those of us who can’t figure out what we want to be when we grow up. Depending on my core issues, and whether they are inborn or caused by circumstances, I may take up this quandary with ease, but probably with angst. For it is a lonely task. One for which we are led only by our souls.

If so, from within that society of the self-aware, it is “To an imperial few -” that “The Auroral Light” has created a dawning of cherished purpose, destiny. I like to think Dickinson’s “auroral light” is a claim on the original use of the term.  The Latin and poetic tradition for auroral light, which is “dawn, goddess of the dawn,” according to my dictionary, has little or nothing to do with spectroscopes or infrared light.

Ponder A Poem A Day – Accept What Comes Your Way