I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing Eyes -
I wonder if It weighs like Mine -
Or has an Easier size
I wonder if They bore it long -
Or did it just begin -
I could not tell the Date of Mine -
It feels so old a pain -
I wonder if it hurts to live -
And if they have to try -
And whether - could they choose between -
It would not be to die -
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Poem 561 by Emily Dickinson
Every word in this poem is perfectly chosen and placed. It says exactly how I feel - even after 2 years, 2 months and 15 days.
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1 comment:
This is beautiful, and haunting. And it hurts to read that you are in this place. I read everything you write, and think about it and pray for you...that you are still writing and sharing this journey is very meaningful. It's an honor to be drawn in and, somehow, included. Wishing you love and praying that you continue to live in the strength that God gives. Adrienne
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