On the thirteenth day of gray and winter rain
I remember the story of Amaterasu,
the Japanese goddess of the sun, who,
attacked by her brother, hid in a cave,
and the world was cast in darkness.
There have been more attacks
in the last few weeks than the world
can bear to hear. Sometimes we forget
how to cry. Sometimes in anger we forget
how to sing, how to pray. Sometimes,
like the younger brother, Susanoo,
we hurl things at those we love most—
perhaps not a monstrous flayed horse,
but blame, judgment, accusations, disgust.
It’s no wonder whatever is light
finds a way to retreat. It’s no wonder
we find ourselves in darkness.
In the story, the rest of the gods
try to lure out the sun with roosters
all ordered to crow outside the cave.
I, too, have tried to tell myself, others too,
that it is morning when it is not.
Always, I am left with darkness
on my tongue.
Then the gods placed a tree
draped in glittering jewels
just outside the closed cave door
and at its center they hung a mirror
so the sun could see her own loveliness.
I, too, have tried to put shine
on the tawdry world,
and never did any sparkling thing
make what is ugly more beautiful.
It was Amenouzume, another goddess,
who danced with abandon,
who took off her clothes
and twirled and teased
until all the gods in heavens roared with delight,
and, out of curiosity, the sun finally
opened the door to see.
Oh world, I am the one who knocks
on the door until my hands bleed,
the one who speaks to the door
and begs and threatens and cajoles
until she is hoarse. None of it
has brought back the light. I am ready
to try dancing and dropping all my layers.
I am ready to try flinging my head back
and letting loose a reckless, untamable laugh.
I love everything about this.
Nori, thank you for such a kind comment. I had first heard about this myth in the book Bridge to Terabithia … and it always surprises me the way things come back into mind–what a beautiful and strange thing, the brain, the way it leaps.
Really beautiful. I will have to look for the myth. Shared your poem on fb and it got shared some more. 🙂
Lushly love this one!
Two comments:
1) In the second line of the closing stanza, I would replace “hands,” with “knuckles.” Seems more accurate/precise, and I’m thinking the “n” of until will still be resonating when the corresponding “n” of knuckles is read.
2) I see a wonderful writing prompt (for your upcoming Leap class?) in:
“I, too, have tried to put shine/on the tawdry world.”
Again, biggly and hugely love this poem.
I love that idea about the knuckes! And if you ever write a poem on that prompt, please, share it with me!
Watch my TEDx talk The Art of Changing Metaphors: TEDX Rosemerry Trommer
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer 970-729-1838 wordwoman.com
From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Monday, January 16, 2017 at 12:53 PM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “New Approach”
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