- WHAT: A Bloggers (Silent) Poetry Reading
- WHEN: Anytime February 2, 2010
- WHERE: Your blog
- WHY: To celebrate the Feast of Brigid, aka Groundhog Day
- HOW: Select a poem you like - by a favorite poet or one of your own - to post February 2nd.
- RSVP: If you plan to publish, feel free to leave a comment and link on this post. Please pass this invitation on.
I have participated in this event for the last couple of years. This year I'm posting early again as I have a busy week ahead. The poem I have selected I found in an anthology called 'Sweet Singers, An Anthology of Carmarthenshire Poems'. I love that it originated in my neck of the woods! I also like the subject matter (the magic that can arise from darkness), as it feels right for me personally at this time in my life, and also at a time of year (Imbolc) when we celebrate the returning light and the end of the dark days of winter.
We are in a state of continual transformation: fresh atoms are continually being reincorporated in us, while others that we received beforehand escape from us.
('De l'Infinito', Giordano Bruno)
Wonderful, what will come out of darkness:
stars, owl voices, sleep;
water, green shoots, bird's eggs
with their own curved darkness;
gemstones; a whole and perfect child
from my unseen recesses; delight
from behind shut lids, finding each other,
fingers and tongues made delicate by night.
Great magic's performed after sunset.
Old alchemists conjuring angels,
witches dancing spirals under the moon;
drum-shamans, their spirit journeys;
three nights in a tomb
Staging a resurrection. Transformations
taking place out of ordinary sight.
Daylight gives us boundaries, fixes
everything. The world separates
into colours and chemicals, figures
and faces. Surfaces appear solid
reliable, unconfused. We can see
to operate complex machinery.
Only darkness permits mixing
of elements, stirring of essences
in secret, combing dark and bright
into new patterns while we sleep; so dawn
finds us transformed, shifted.
Star-particles link us with trees
dolphins and stones, travel through us
creating the universe. Base matter
becomes gold: in the Cauldron
of Annwyn, in the crucible of mind
we're all magicians. The Hidden Stone,
Elixir of Life, eludes us; we've lost
the art of working through touch
with invisible forces: but as darkness
rises, and we grope wildly, perhaps
out of chaos the magic will come right.
- Hilary Llewellyn Williams