Sweet Darkness By David Whyte

How can a year go by so swiftly? An ocean of tears, total aloneness, naked fear, unbearable loss, stress and constant pain.  Healing?  Not yet, maybe never.  Sweet darkness, indeed. 

An old collage I made in another lifetime ---

~×~×~×~×~

Sweet Darkness
By David Whyte

When your eyes are tired
the world is tired also.

When your vision has gone

no part of the world can find you.

Time to go into the dark

where the night has eyes

to recognize its own.

There you can be sure

you are not beyond love.

The dark will be your womb

tonight.

The night will give you a horizon

further than you can see.

You must learn one thing:

the world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds

except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet

confinement of your aloneness
to learn

anything or anyone

that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.

From: "The House of Belonging" - page 23

Moonflower, my fragrant friend, fellow lover of darkness---

Moths by Eavan Boland

Pink Sphinx Moth, 2007.  My once in a lifetime shot.

MOTHS

By Eavan Boland

Tonight the air smells of cut grass.

Apples rust on the branches.  Already summer is

a place mislaid between expectation and memory.

This has been a summer for moths.

Their moment of truth comes well after dark.

Then they reveal themselves at our window-

ledges and sills as a pinpoint.  A glimmer.

The books I look up about them are full of legends:

ghost-swift moths with their dancing assemblies at dusk.

Their courtship swarms.  How some kinds may steer by the moon.

The moon is up.  The back windows are wide open.

Mid-July fills the neighborhood.  I stand by the hedge.

Once again they are near the windowsill---

fluttering past the fuscia and the lavender,

which is knee-high, and too blue to warn them

they will fall down without knowing how

or why what they steered by became, suddenly,

what they crackled and burned around.  They will perish---

I am perishing---on the edge and at the threshold of

the moment all nature fears and tends towards:

the stealing of the light.  Ingenious facsimile.

And the kitchen bulb which beckons them makes

my child’s shadow longer than my own.

From:  “New Collected Poems” by Eavan Boland, pages 220, 221

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My life is discombobulated and not by a hurricane, but by divorce & domestic violence.  My heart goes out to the people in Texas and Florida who have experienced Mother Nature's wild forces.  I pray for you all to come through this as better people, realizing that life is not about stuff, but about, well, life.  It's what I pray for myself, also.  xo, Marion