Adrienne Rich — Upper Broadway

The leafbud struggles forth toward the light of the airshaft this is faith this pale extension of a day when looking up you know something is changing winter has turned though the wind is colder Three streets away a roof collapses onto people who thought they still had time Time out of mind I have written so many words wanting to live inside you to be of use to you Now I must write for myself for this blind woman scratching the pavement with her wand of thought this slippered crone inching on icy streets reaching into wire trashbaskets pulling out what was thrown away and infinitely precious I look at my hands and see they are still unfinished I look at the vine and see the leafbud inching towards life I look at my face in the glass and see a halfborn woman