This morning I went to the studio crying after reading the Washington Post. I was grief stricken over racial injustice, death, and uncertainty. All I could do was to paint things black. I put a coat of black paint on a sheet of paper, a coat of graphite on a gessoed panel, and a coat of black over North Carolina red clay. It was as if all my brush could paint was a spell against hatred, racism, and anger. My hand moved in sadness and respect. Words feel useless and yet to say nothing is untenable.
SPELL TO BE SAID AGAINST HATRED
Until each breath refuses they, those, them.
Until the Dramatis Personae of the book’s first page says, “Each one is you.”
Until hope bows to its hopelessness only as one self bows to another.
Until cruelty bends to its work and sees suddenly: I.
Until anger and insult know themselves burnable legs of a useless table.
Until the unsurprised unbidden knees find themselves bending.
Until fear bows to its object as a bird’s shadow bows to its bird.
Until the ache of the solitude inside the hands, the ribs, the ankles.
Until the sound the mouse makes inside the mouth of the cat.
Until the inaudible acids bathing the coral.
Until what feels no one’s weighing is no longer weightless.
Until what feels no one’s earning is no longer taken.
Until grief, pity, confusion, laughter, longing know themselves mirrors.
Until by we we mean I, them you the muskrat, the tiger, the hunger.
Until by I we mean as a dog barks, sounding and vanishing and sounding and vanishing completely.
Until by until we mean I, we, you, them, the muskrat, the tiger, the hunger, the lonely barking of the dog before it is answered.
—Jane Hirshfield in Ledger, Alfred A. Knopf, 2020
One reply on “#1 summer summit”
Catherine, I thought this poem might express some of the sentiment of our times. The name of the poem by Casey DS is
“I Swallowed Up the Void”
One day,
I swallowed up the void.
Not too much at first, I didn’t want to be greedy.
But enough that it grew into my hair,
turning it black.
I swallowed up the void again.
It settled heavy in my gut.
It was sweet at first, then gave way to an unsettling metallic aftertaste.
Still, it was addicting, intoxicating.
I needed more.
I swallowed up the void again,
hungry for empty.
The void is not black,
like so many others say.
No, the void is, in fact, a kaleidoscope of brilliant color
I swallowed up the void again.
There seemed to be an endless amount.
My eyes showed me what I had previously been blind to.
I could see the void others swallowed up.
His denim jacket wasn’t for fashion some days.
I swallowed up the void again.
This time, it caught in my throat.
I gagged and my body convulsed,
an unsuccessful attempt to rid of the poison.
The void coated my lungs, stealing my breath, my life.
I thought I swallowed up the void,
but the void had swallowed up me.
Source: Casey DS https://hellopoetry.com/CaseyDS/