I would like to share with you one of my favorite Dickinson poems.
The soul selects her own society,
Then shuts the door;
On her divine majority
Obtrude no more.
Unmoved, she notes the chariot's pausing
At her low gate;
Unmoved, an emperor is kneeling
Upon her mat.
Then close the valves of her attention
In the spirit of Dickinson, I have to remember to write for myself. I think my writing will have more authenticity if I worry less about pleasing critics or following current trends in poetry. I'm afraid to fall into the trap of looking at each poem as whether or not it is "worthy" of being published. Like Dickinson, I'll honor my one on one dialogue with my poems. I'll try and see where those thoughts take me from poem to poem.