In Emily Dickinson’s poem, departure always happens before understanding. We set out, believing we will return, closing the door behind us as if in jest. But fate, that silent sentinel , follows us, drops the latch, and seals the way back. The moment of no return arrives long before we recognize it. Dickinson confronts us with a simple yet cruel truth: moments of farewell always outpace moments of awareness. In the second movement of the poem, love enters the stage , not as a romantic force, ...