March 11th, 2011

Wool Snowpants on a Clothesline

In March, the snows don't last long
yet there is a part of me that grieves
this ending, in the turn of another year
while folks say they are sick of this
(cold white, unforgiving weather)
I know all I can do is remember my
rubber boots with the metal buckles
that froze to ice with the packed snow
and the way outside light looked purple
in the basement windows, from the inside
but I will never go back there again

Sometimes, the hardest experiences
of letting go and the biggest losses,
remind our weakness to take a breath
and then another, to recognize its strength.

* * *

One of my favorite lines in a poem by Julia Spicher Kasdorf: we gather
losses, we may also grow in love;
as in passion, the body shudders
and clutches what it must release