from “The Last Hiding Places of Snow”
I know there are regrets
we can never be rid of,
that fade but never leave:
permanent remorse. Knowing this, I know also
I am to draw from that surplus stored up
of tenderness that was hers by right,
which it’s possible no one ever gave her,
and give it away, freely.
Galway Kinnell, A Few Selected Poems
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