Thursday, June 18, 2009

Longing, by Sue Sinclair

Ludwig van Beethoven - Cello Sonata No.3 in A major, Op.69 - III
with Pablo Casals, cello and Mieczyslaw Horszowski, piano

Tired of being alone, especially at night.
The stars broken down in the sky, engines stalled,
shining, waiting for rescue.
The height of things stares down at you.

You settle into the night's own loneliness,
let the universe expand, stretch like a curing hide.
Someday the absence on the other side
will show through, unquantified:
if history is an animal, this is its pain,
an unspoken reproach, the throbbing in the vein
that accompanies the inevitable going forth,
you or someone like you taking the place
of the unborn, feeling their stare.

Is the great beauty of things somehow visible to itself?
If so, is it enough? For how quickly it vanishes,
becomes its own ghost. And then there is you:
you have only the barest idea of what you'll leave behind.
History must feel its failures vividly.
You wonder if it heard the chorus fade away
when you were born, for you grew up
knowing nothing of the echoes that surrounded you,
still less of the voices that will be lost when you leave.

in Breaker, Brick Books, 2008


Roxana said...

Is the great beauty of things somehow visible to itself?
If so, is it enough?

perhaps it is from this starting point, these questions, that the thought of art can arise, our need for it.

Sinclair is indeed fabulous.

(bagasem eu un feed ca sa primesc postarile de aici in mail, ai idee de ce nu mai functioneaza?)

Anonymous said...

tired of being alone,
this night