Then one day you remember her and you smile through your tears because she-
She loved life like no one else. She loved her family and friends, laughter, dance, theatre, travels and a good read. And you think
Yes, it hurts
it hurts so much that she is not here anymore but
after winter comes spring
after rain comes sun
nothing lasts forever
nor good nor bad
dare to love, trust and believe
dare to be open to anything new
and the most important:
yes it hurts. sometimes it hurts like hell.
it is life
but love it still
like she did
YES, OF COURSE IT HURTS
By the Swedish poet Karin Boye. Translated in to English by David McDuff
Yes, of course it hurts when buds are breaking.
Why else would the springtime falter?
Why would all our ardent longing
bind itself in frozen, bitter pallor?
After all, the bud was covered all the winter.
What new thing is it that bursts and wears?
Yes, of course it hurts when buds are breaking,
hurts for that which grows
and that which bars.
Yes, it is hard when drops are falling.
Trembling with fear, and heavy hanging,
cleaving to the twig, and swelling, sliding -
weight draws them down, though they go on clinging.
Hard to be uncertain, afraid and divided,
hard to feel the depths attract and call,
yet sit fast and merely tremble -
hard to want to stay
and want to fall.
Then, when things are worst and nothing helps
the tree's buds break as in rejoicing,
then, when no fear holds back any longer,
down in glitter go the twig's drops plunging,
forget that they were frightened by the new,
forget their fear before the flight unfurled -
feel for a second their greatest safety,
rest in that trust
that creates the world.