CERTAIN THAT HURTS: Poetry, by Karin Boye


karing1.1Of course it hurts when buds open. Why otherwise should hesitate spring? Why should our whole burning nostalgia, be it related to pale and bitter frost? Yet the bud was casing all winter. What’s new, now, that affects and press? Of course it hurts when buds open, hurt that grows, and what it contains. Of course it is difficult, when the drops fall. Trembling of anxiety they are suspended, heavy, they cling to the branch, they swell, they slip, the weight dragging them down, as they try to hold on to. Hard to be uncertain, afraid and divided, hard to hear the abyss that draws and draws, and yet remain there and only flicker, hard to want to stay and will fall. Then, when the worst has come and nothing helps, they hatch, exulting buds of the tree. Then, when there is the fear that holds, the drops fall on the twig twinkling, forget the old fear of the new, forget the apprehension passed through the journey, they feel for a moment their biggest safety, they rest in that trust that creates the world.

(Karin Boye)



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