‘What then is this wild dark?’
The question: my reply
‘It is a shining sea
sunless, whose plumbless depths
reach downwards to fathom infinity’
Its edges, silvered, shiver through my soul
I am set free
I face the darkness:
it does not diminish me
‘I’m all adrift in blackness’ I cry
find you holding me
at creation’s obscured boundary
I take a breath and dive
a thousand thousand shimmering things
with shapeless forms
I writhe, break free, emerge
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Written for earthweal
In this week’s challenge, Brendan explores The Wild Dark:
The dark is the source of mantic inspiration, the dead are the carriers of deep tradition, and poetry is the green fire of dark knowledge. The procedure for gaining poetic inspiration was clearly a burial and a rebirth.
He poses the question which I have used for the opening line of my poem. It makes me realise that perhaps I should be grateful for my PMDD, which gives me the experience of facing extreme darkness on a regular, cyclical basis. I come up singing. See also The Place Where Poetry is Born.
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