When I made you, I loved you. <br />Now I pity you. <br /> <br />I gave you all you needed: <br />bed of earth, blanket of blue air-- <br /> <br />As I get further away from you <br />I see you more clearly. <br />Your souls should have been immense by now, <br />not what they are, <br />small talking things-- <br /> <br />I gave you every gift, <br />blue of the spring morning, <br />time you didn't know how to use-- <br />you wanted more, the one gift <br />reserved for another creation. <br /> <br />Whatever you hoped, <br />you will not find yourselves in the garden, <br />among the growing plants. <br />Your lives are not circular like theirs: <br /> <br />your lives are the bird's flight <br />which begins and ends in stillness-- <br />which begins and ends, in form echoing <br />this arc from the white birch <br />to the apple tree.<br /><br />Louise Gluck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/retreating-wind/
