I have always been fascinated by Emily Dickinson. Called a recluse and eccentric, she rarely left her house and most of her poems remained hidden until after her death.  If not for her family, the brilliance she created would have disappeared.  While her works were saved, I wonder how many other creative treasures are lost.  For all the “closet writers” out there afraid to show their work, remember Emily Dickinson.

Here is my favorite selection of her works.

I can wade grief,

whole pools of it, –

I’m used to that.

But the least push of joy

Breaks up my feet,

And I tip – drunken