better things will surely come our way
Of course it hurts when buds burst.
Otherwise why would spring hesitate?Why would all our fervent longing
be bound in the frozen bitter haze?
The bud was the casing all winter.
What is this new thing, which consumes and bursts?
Of course it hurts when buds burst,
pain for that which grows
and for that which envelops.
Of course it is hard when drops fall.
Trembling with fear they hang heavy,
clammer on the branch, swell and slide -
the weight pulls them down, how they cling.
Hard to be uncertain, afraid and divided,
hard to feel the deep pulling and calling,
yet sit there and just quiver -
hard to want to stay
and to want to fall.Then, at the point of agony and when all is beyond help,
the tree's buds burst as if in jubilation,
then, when fear no longer exists,
the branch's drops tumble in a shimmer,
forgetting that they were afraid of the new,
forgetting that they were fearful of the journey
- feeling for a second their greatest security,
resting in the trust
that creates the world.
* * *
I have never seen your healing hand.
You come in the dark, when no one knows.
I wait in silence and reliance shy
in loneliness.
You my sister and mother, you and I and not I,
your name is night, an enigma's dark sun,
I sense you immense and mighty and blind
and soundlessly dumb.
You know depths of horrors I have not seen,
I tremble to break your law's secret way,
But you know a solace mild denied to me
by sunbright day.
I have silently hidden in you my wound
and ached among thorns till my soul was bare.
In the darkness you touched the bush - it leapt
into wild roses there.
Karin BoyeEtiquetas: poesia
I google, you google, he googles.
