Monday, April 28, 2008


Why this sadness toward spring?
Half smiles at the first yellow flowers,
Tears pooling for not reason with each rain and sunset?
Each year this green show
blows wide winter's covering and lets us see
the swell and push of beginning again.
Am I meant to rise too?
To push away what leans against the door of my pinched heart?
I cannot.
Compassion for myself
is a slow growing crop,
however carefully tended
it yields an unreliable harvest.
These resurrections
ask more of me than I can give
every time
this hurts more
than the pains of my body
than the old world full of sorrows
this offering of love
this unbearable git of another chance.

- Barbara Pescan


cory said...

oh man. thank you. that's perfect!

PrincessMax said...

I was so deeply moved when Nanette asked me to read this. To be known well enough that she knew this poet was speaking my heart. Ach.

Jake and Jess said...

i hear you rebecca. i couldn't stop reading it throughout the evening (well actually the entire set of readings), feeling too kindred to the message which was being conveyed. ugh. what do i do with this?

Robin said...

Jessica, I thought you wrote it until I saw an author's name listed. I miss you friend!

Rachel said...

i was gonna do that! all the poetry was amazing.