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Posts Tagged ‘darkness’

 

power out—

an invitation to fall in love

with darkness

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Window

 

 

 

In dark times it is sometimes hard

to speak of joy—not because

 

it doesn’t exist but because

of the guilt in feeling it.

 

The dark clots our arteries,

it keens in our ears, floods the streets.

 

Still, my friend sends me a word—

wushdan. It’s pronounced like swush,

 

she says, not swoosh. Wushdan.

I say it aloud, and the syllables

 

hush my tongue. It means,

she says, “heart awareness,

 

conscience,” as in a practice

of inner discipline. Wushdan,

 

I say again, as if to speak a word

is to know the secrets harboring

 

inside it for centuries.

The root, says my friend, is wush,

 

which is Persian, means joy.

It feels as if someone

 

has slipped me a piece of chocolate

in math class during a test.

 

Or as if, while reading

the headlines of war I look out

 

the window and see the big brown eyes

of a doe looking unwaveringly

 

into mine. And I put the paper down

and watch out the window

 

until the light is gone.

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One Last Thing

 

 

 

Let us lace our words with light—

the fragrant light we carry in our flesh.

 

Even the darkest words can be said

with light, can be spoken with a seam

 

of radiance, spoken as if the whole world

depends on us finding that inner shine

 

and sharing it.

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first there was darkness

and from that ink

 

was written all the light

that ever was,

 

all the light that ever will be,

please, write again soon

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One Re-knowing

on a night

without starlight

learning

to know darkness

as the other greatest gift

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the dark is    less dark

and the shapes    of the world

reveal again their    singular shapes—

I know they don’t really    lose their lines in the dark,

but I like to imagine    all those newly

illumined    silhouettes

have spent the night    blurred, puddled

into one    immense darkness,

forgetting    for a while

that they have    any lines

worth    preserving.

It is enough    to make a woman

wish that    the light

would never    come

if that is    what it takes

to make us    all remember

how arbitrary    they are,

these boundaries    we like

to call    ourselves.

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Four Vastnesses

 

 

You darkness that I come from, I love you

—Rainier Maria Rilke

 

 

not the moon, but

the darkness around the moon

this love

 

*

given prison bars

the darkness

slips right through

 

*

 

darkness in the tea—

I bring it into me

cup after cup

 

*

 

standing at the edge

the first step

is the only step

 

 

 

 

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Into the Dark Again

for U and E

 

Dark and getting darker—

nothing to do but to make of the body

a home for darkness,

to open every secret drawer

where we hide our private darknesses.

Who knows what might happen then?

How immeasurable we are. It is only

terrifying until it becomes freedom.

Grace comes in the strangest costumes.

Did you really think you didn’t need help?

This night, stay awake.

Some things we can see no other way.

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So dark out there,

of course you’re scared

and want to hide

inside,

but notice how

when you turn off

the lights—I know

it sounds unwise—

that’s when you’ll find

that it’s not black

but gray, the night,

and you can see

quite well once you

let darkness open

slowly up your eyes.

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A Lesson in Shading

So first, you imagine the light bulb,

he says, then he draws one on the page

so I won’t have to imagine too hard.

And then, he says, you draw a dark line

under the object, assuming that there

will not be much light underneath it.

He moves his pencil forcefully

to darken the bottom of the square.

Next, he says, you move your hand

as far from the light as possible

and make it darker there.

I watch as he fills in the spaces

where white has been.

There is something vital

in all of us that leans toward the dark.

I notice the depth that the shadows

have brought to the page, so like the shadow

into which we are pulled and pulled.

Even now, the darkest parts of us

are kindling our greatest light.

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