i could not catch up to life, so she kindly waited for me

I came upon Life as I crossed the street in calm serenity

I was reposed, and she composed, in hushed tranquility.


She crossed the way in graceful stay without a pause of breath

And I, all the more curious, trailed after like lingering death.


As if she knew that I would come, she turned and looked to me,

With a beauty in her eyes to denote her excellent company.


“What is it?” She asked as I kept up in quicker stride,

“What have you come to ask of Death’s only bride?”


“Nothing great,” said I, acquiescing to humble civility,

“But only curious as to how you retain such bold humility.


Everyone admires you, and respect for you runs abound

But that is soon forgotten when your husband comes around.


And rather than respect you, you are reviled for your only gift;

How do you do it? How do you continue without some internal rift?”


I watched her there as she considered the power of my word

And looked upon my yearning face to let me know I had been heard.


She thought a moment more to consider and reminisce

And returned her gaze back to me with bittersweet resilience.


Said she, “I cannot help the nature of my spouse;

But without him this world would be a hulking, bulging house.


There is a time for everyone to love and laugh and live,

But even I cannot control how much that I may give.


The world here has great beauty that some may never see

And I know great conjectures to contest their philosophy


But I apologize for the time I cannot compensate,

But know it’s yours and that there are many worse a fate.”


She bowed her brow to me and then continued along the way,

Leaving me alone as I watched the clouds track the day.


I returned home and then considered the weight of what I’d learned

And continued to slowly understand the meaning that I’d once yearned.


It has been years since I’ve encountered that brush with deliverance,

But I’ve found the strength I needed; and it has made the difference.

This poem is about: 
Our world



Loved this response to/immitation of Emily Dickinson's poem.

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