Even though it's spring already, (and a beautiful one it is!), I wrote a poem about winter looking for spring as I worked through my grief. Here it is:
I see Spring in the distance,
A lone figure, fuzzy gray against white,
Tentatively picking its way around boulders
Thrown up violently against the shore.
I can see Spring in the distance,
Looking puzzled, disoriented, unsure
Like the Jews who were commanded to sing
And play their harps in a foreign land,
Their hearts stark and broken.
They could not sing.
They hung their harps on
The willows by the river.
No music,no joy.
But I see Spring in the distance,
Head not bowed,
Despite eyes filled with pain,
Placing one foot carefully
In front of the other,
Unrelenting,
Determined,
Alone.
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