Pages

Saturday, April 20, 2013

merely beautiful























Meeting the Light Completely

by Jane Hirshfield

Even the long-beloved
was once
an unrecognized stranger.

Just so,
the chipped lip
of a blue-glazed cup,
blown field
of a yellow curtain,
might also,
flooding and falling,
ruin your heart.

A table painted with roses.
An empty clothesline.

Each time,
the found world surprises—
that is its nature.

And then
what is said by all lovers:
"What fools we were, not to have seen."






“All I wanted to do was paint sunlight on the side of a house,” said Edward Hopper (or words to that effect), and there have been legions of poets and filmmakers obsessed with light. I would side with the irrational visionary romantic who says light came first, and darkness but a fleeting shadow to be swept away with more light. (“More light!” cried the great poet, dying.) Poets and painters are the natural bearers of it, and all I ever wanted to do was paint light on the walls of life.








What is the light 
at the end of the day, deep, reddish-gold, bathing the walls,
the corridors, light that is no longer light, no longer clarifies,
illuminates, antique, freed from the body of 
that air that carries it. What is it 
for the space of time 
where it is useless, merely
beautiful? 

- Jorie Graham, excerpted from "Salmon"




What is the light? All I know is that I want to meet it completely. I want to bear light, and hold it, though it happens to be merely beautiful.









1 comment:

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...