When the Spring Thaw Comesby Ivan M. Granger
Original Language English
won't tell you
That book of sins
beneath your pillow
not at all.
When the spring thaw comes
we all go mad
and shred it,
tossing love notes
left and right
scribbled on the scraps.
|-- from Diamond Cutters: Visionary Poets in America, Britain & Oceania, Edited by Andrew Harvey / Edited by Jay Ramsay|
/ Image by Ana-mcara /
It has been a while since I last featured one of my own poems. Something to welcome spring.
We all do it, keep a hidden notebook detailing each and every failing. When it comes to that book of self-recrimination, we memorize each page with a cruel clarity. We can list each imperfection. The tally on the final page tells us in blunt mathematics how we are not who we imagine we should be. We brutalize ourselves with this book.
It is not that any line item in this ledger is untrue or that we should not feel remorse when we stumble or cause hurt.
But something happens. Spring's first dawn breaks. The old self, in stunned silence, just falls away. And with it goes all those old calculations.
All that then remains of those countless self-cruelties are our secret love notes written to a new self and a new world filled with new life.
Happy spring! And to all of my Persian and Middle Eastern friends, Happy Nowruz!