April - Louise Glück
No one's despair is like my despair
You have no place in this garden thinking such things, producing the tiresome outward signs; the man pointedly weeding an entire forest, the woman limping, refusing to change clothes or wash her hair.
Do you suppose I care if you speak to one another? But I mean you to know I expected better of two creatures who were given minds: if not that you would actually care for each other at least that you would understand grief is distributed between you, among all your kind, for me to know you, as deep blue marks the wild scilla, white the wood violet.
Big Book Of Poetry
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First Memory - Louise Glück
Long ago, I was wounded. I lived
to revenge myself
against my father, not
for what he was—
for what I was: from the beginning of time,
in childhood, I thought
that pain meant
I was not loved.
It meant I loved.
Big Book Of Poetry
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