“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.” ~ Mary Oliver
“I am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses.” ~ Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra
A labor of love
of inspiration and dedication
I worked carefully and thoroughly with exquisite care
and attention to every detail
Sometimes with grand strokes
with sweeping waves of paint
and then other moments with tiny barely-there dustings
mere shadows on the canvas.
My brushes grew as worn and wracked as my body
it was time to unveil (birth) my creation.
They looked and looked
and looked again and said
it’s all black…
I said it’s the darkness.
Darkness covering like a silken gown
like the surrounding of a seed before it heeds the summons to reach
like the birthplace of diamonds
like the rivers from your heart that flow silently…
Dark like ink
like the moons hidden face
I have poured the universe out before you,
here for you to marvel at,
to seek its wonders in the oil of its shadowed face
in the mystery lying as close to you as your shuttered eyelid
and pressing in around every window dropped and fastened against the terrors of the night.
Darkness with all its beginnings and endings
rituals and murmurs
spilling its secrets out from this wall…
And they looked again
and puzzled over what they perceived as mere lack of light
or absence of color
and my lack of understanding
and then they laughed
and dismissed me.
And then I showed them real darkness.
The merciless darkness that borders,
that rings a raging pyre.
I cleaned up.
and began to paint again.