15 August 2013

Poetry Thursday - Goulash by Myra Schneider

…While you’re stirring the stew
it dawns on you how much you need darkness.
It lives in the underskirts of thickets where sealed buds
coddle green, where butterflies folded in hibernation,
could be crumpled leaves. It lives in the sky that carries
a deep sense of blue and a thin boat of moon angled
as if it’s rocking. It lives in the silent larder and upstairs
in the airing cupboard where a padded heart pumps
heat, in the well of bed where humans lace together.
Time to savour all this as the simmering continues…

from Goulash by Myra Schneider, found in Poems of the Decade (hear the author read the whole poem here; it's also in her book Circling the Core)

I came across the poem, with its "darkness" passage, immediately after reading "Darkness and Light" by Kathleen Jamie in Findings -
and a week later, learned that some languages have words for only two colours, "light" and "dark". Meanwhile, and perhaps forever from now on, quotes about darkness (and sometimes, lightness) have been jumping out of the metaphorical bushes.

1 comment:

The Idaho Beauty said...

That poem did resonate with me. I've long been partial to, if not total darkness, at least dimness for the first part of the day and then in the evening. People visiting want to turn on more light to see better. Like a vampire, I shade my eyes with the back of my hand, trying to convince them I can see just fine in the dim light. Of course, there ARE times of the day when I adore sun streaming into a room, or need the brightness of an Ott light to do my handwork. But overall, I operate in a much dimmer environment than most people do, I think. So I love this poem. Perhaps I am descended from a mole...