*because we can’t, even when each day it feels like we’re that guy with the rock (Sisyphus) pushing it up the hill only to have it come crashing down again and again. still, progress is being made, and there is always hope. Happy Spring 🙂
More than the fuchsia funnels breaking out
of the crabapple tree, more than the neighbor’s
almost obscene display of cherry limbs shoving
their cotton candy-colored blossoms to the slate
sky of Spring rains, it’s the greening of the trees
that really gets to me. When all the shock of white
and taffy, the world’s baubles and trinkets, leave
the pavement strewn with the confetti of aftermath,
the leaves come. Patient, plodding, a green skin
growing over whatever winter did to us, a return
to the strange idea of continuous living despite
the mess of us, the hurt, the empty. Fine then,
I’ll take it, the tree seems to say, a new slick leaf
unfurling like a fist to an open palm, I’ll take it all.
~ Ada Limon
for more about poet Ada Lemon, who is the first Latina poet laureate of the U.S. follow these links, y’all: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ada_Limón