How Dark the Beginning
All we ever talk of is light—
let there be light, there was light then,
good light—but what I consider
dawn is darker than all that.
So many hours between the day
receding and what we recognize
as morning, the sun cresting
like a wave that won’t break
over us—as if light were protective,
as if no hearts were flayed,
no bodies broken on a day
like today. In any film,
the sunrise tells us everything
will be all right. Danger wouldn’t
dare show up now, dragging
its shadow across the screen.
We talk so much of light, please
let me speak on behalf
of the good dark. Let us
talk more of how dark
the beginning of a day is.
It’s no secret that Maggie’s words have been saving me for months: first her “keep moving” affirmations on Twitter, then the poems in her most recent collection, Good Bones, and now an advance copy of Keep Moving (out in October), which combines some of those same affirmations with longer essays.
This poem feels particularly apt right now: it is dark, and there is danger, and we don’t know when or how or even whether everything will be all right. I love the light, and I am looking for it everywhere I can find it (see photo) – but I still love Maggie’s musings on “the good dark,” and how it engenders new beginnings.
April is National Poetry Month, and I am sharing poetry here on Fridays this month, as I do every year.
cakes, tea and dreams 