Emancipation. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

No rack can torture me,
    My soul’s at liberty
    Behind this mortal bone
    There knits a bolder one

    You cannot prick with saw,
    Nor rend with scymitar.
    Two bodies therefore be;
    Bind one, and one will flee.

    The eagle of his nest
    No easier divest
    And gain the sky,
    Than mayest thou,

    Except thyself may be
    Thine enemy;
    Captivity is consciousness,
    So’s liberty.