We think of hidden in a white dress
among the folded linens and sachets
of well-kept cupboards, or just out of sight
sending jellies and notes with no address
to all the wondering Amherst neighbors.
Eccentric as New England weather
the stiff wind of her mind, stinging or gentle,
blew two half imagined lovers off.
Yet legend won’t explain the sheer sanity
of vision, the serious mischief
of language, the economy of pain.
Emily Dickinson
Analysis, meaning and summary of Linda Pastan's poem Emily Dickinson
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To answer your question:
There is a flaw in it:
Legend can’t answer it:
her vision is just like mine:
mad and genius, thus the opposite you state:
there is something in her visions not like sanity, sanity is not the right word, more precise her vision was of light and light consists of darkness, for without it light can’t exist. They both exist in paradoxical unison. In everything light and dark, there is the answer:
Her vision was of an opaque light.
~Dickinson~