From Dickinson

A poem

A poem from Dickinson. Is it fitting for Eastertide? Not at all.

Yet to her friends she is always on point.

(472)

Except the Heaven had come so near -

So seemed to choose My Door -

The Distance would not haunt me so -

I had not hoped - before -

But just to hear the Grace depart -

I never thought to see -

Afflicts me with a Double loss -

‘Tis lost - And lost to me -