DELAYED till she had ceased to know,
Delayed till in its vest of snow
Her loving bosom lay.
An hour behind the fleeting breath,
Later by just an hour than death,—
Oh, lagging yesterday!

Could she have guessed that it would be;
Could but a crier of the glee
Have climbed the distant hill;
Had not the bliss so slow a pace,—
Who knows but this surrendered face
Were undefeated still?

Oh, if there may departing be
Any forgot by victory
In her imperial round,
Show them this meek apparelled thing,
That could not stop to be a king,
Doubtful if it be crowned!

~Emily dickinson

Life has been full for both of us these past couple of weeks–family things, work things, life things–and we’ve fallen behind in our intention of posting daily poems. We’re working on getting caught up. The idea of The Emily Project is to post a poem daily, to make up for the lack of daily poetry reading books by women writers. We’re going to say not that we’ve been defeated, not that we’ve surrendered–just that we’ve been delayed a little.

Here’s to the grace we could all use for fresh starts and new beginnings and perfect imperfection.

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