Do you ever find yourself comparing your grief and loss to that of
others? Emily Dickinson in grief poems wonders too, if the grief of
others is lighter than hers.
I Measure Every Grief I Meet
I measure every grief I meet
With analytic 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,
They would not rather die.
I wonder if when years have piled--
Some thousands--on the cause
Of early hurt, if such a lapse
Could give them any pause;
Or would they go on aching still
Through centuries above,
Enlightened to a larger pain
By contrast with the love.
And even as we discreetly compare our sorrows, we will likely
find one who is hurting more than we are. If not now, perhaps one day in
the future and we can lend our comfort to a breaking heart...
If I can Stop One Heart From Breaking
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
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