Home now. Stronger. Surer. Afraid, yes, but among you again. Again. Snowdrops Louise Glück Do you know what I was, how I lived? You know what despair is; then winter should have meaning for you. I did not expect to survive, earth suppressing me. I didn't expect to
I was hurting, and I said, I'll burn this fucking house down. They worried that the neighbors will hear. Really? After everything that has happened, don't you think everybody already knows what's going on here? If you think otherwise then
Here. First Memory Louise Glück Long ago, I was wounded. I lived to revenge myself against my father, not for what he was— for what I was: from the beginning of time, in childhood, I thought that pain meant I was not loved. It meant I loved.
Walking through this poem slowly. Castile Louise Glück Orange blossoms blowing over Castile children begging for coins I met my love under an orange tree or was it an acacia tree or was he not my love? I read this, then I dreamed this: can waking take back what
Visiting the graves today. Nostos Louise Glück There was an apple tree in the yard — this would have been forty years ago — behind, only meadows. Drifts off crocus in the damp grass. I stood at that window: late April. Spring flowers in the neighbor's yard. How many times,