The Night of Her Insistence

The Night of Her Insistence
Nancy Reinhold, 1997

She finally understood it, the sadness of her life
the weight of her emotions, the gravity of light
She looked into the back of her mind
to see where she had been
But all she saw was a secret
and she could not look in

All those years of waiting
all those years of trying too hard
all those years of failing
pushed her down too far
She wearies of the geographies
that tell her who she is
She chokes on her philosophies
and all that she has been

When she finally put her foot down
she put her fears down too
she left them by the back door
and through the night she flew
Away from her emotions
away from tricks of time
away from cruel devotions
she left them all behind

It was the night of her insistence
it was the day she found her will
it was the dream she always harboured
and harbours still
It was the night of her configuration
all the pieces finally there
and in the light of transformation
She……

Finally understood it
the sadness of her life
the weight of her emotion
the gravity of light
She looked into the back of her mind
to see where she had been
and there she saw the secret
and now she looked in

one of the privileges of considering poetry

from the Footnote to the Translations in Mary Barnard’s Sappho translation, in which she is reviewing critical writing about Sappho’s life:

“…However, when we come to consider the sense of the poetry and the human relationships, we should, I feel, have the privilege of tentatively rejecting any theory which outrages common sense.”

I would argue that we should, in general, reject theories that outrage common sense, and not just tentatively. But maybe that’s just me.

new work is up

Too many beers (2, actually, but that seems to be 1 too many), too much busy head after dinner with ex-coworkers, awake in the middle of the night, trying to work on something serious about Cain or Lot’s wife, and this is what I get — Marlena “Doc” Evans Brady Black. Check it out on the right.

bees and billiards and blooms

more bees, this time from my friend Carol Burbank. You can find the entire poem to the right, under “Guest Poets”

then there must be something to tell
in all the silence
of the bees and billiards and blooms
that make the day hum and click

from “Hum”

by Mary Oliver

What is this dark hum among the roses?
The bees have gone simple, sipping,
that’s all. What did you expect? Sophistication?
They’re small creatures and they are
filling their bodies with sweetness, how could they not
moan in happiness?