by Kathleen MacGregor
It is spring
But it is not lightness and joy that
Are visiting her today.
The daffodils
Are blinding in their yellowness
And she turns her face away.
The crocuses
Are unfolding themselves and having a stretch
But she walks past them without a sniff.
The robins
Are feasting and round on worms.
So many worms
Lay dead, having drowned and are uneaten.
If she finds one alive on the walk
She picks it up and
Carries it to the dirt beside the road.
Because a worm she can save.
But she can’t save a boy in uniform
In a street
In a war.
She can’t save her sons
From all the ways there are to
Torture.
Be tortured.
She can’t stop the relentless
Turning of the seasons
And in her heart it feels like
Winter.
And she would like the sky
To feel like winter too.
Her heart feels like bare
Branches, that the trees would be bare too.
Remember how we’re all connected?
Remember how we’re all one?
Remember how killing the whales is killing
Ourselves?
Are you saying that it is I
Who cut the elephants from their faces?
Are you telling me
That I turn redwood trees
Into fences?
I don’t want that.
I don’t want to do that.
How do I stop it?
Yes,
I am telling you that.
I’m so sorry.
You have had to feel so small and alone.
Please, please forgive me.
My unconsciousness.
Thank you.
For be-coming to my awareness.
Thank you for showing me my love.
I love you.
Kathleen,
Such a bleak, sad, beautiful expression.
Thank you.
Yes, Bleek and sad…
also
generous and forgiveing….
Thanks Kathleen