Nellie in the dark
When she went into the mine,
Nellie hoped of having—a view
Of the deepest place, but once
Down, our girl only saw up.
Rocks don’t matter, in the dark,
For looking. The beneath-your-
Feet has nothing to say. There
Is no down in the blind belly
Of the cave. And in your blind
Belly you’ll know it. The window
Is what matters. The thick light
Pouring, spilling like milk, down.
On Nellie’s face, a smile
Through the darkness, comforted.
Down is only a direction—
Where the up-light comes from.
Nellie, in her pinafore. Nellie,
In search of wonders. Nellie,
Groomed on godly and cleanly
And forever and this and that.
Sweet Little, in the hard belly
Of the earth. Has a window.
Dies with the perfect picture-
Frame. Buried. Alone.
It’s true! It is true that where dark
Is deepest, light is most light.
Deepest hole. Most radiant window.
Lucky Nellie fell, landed.
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5 comments:
Laurel -
I really like this poem.
d.
excellent poem. enough said.
i like it. i like it. i think Ms Emily would approve.
i don't know if this is kosher here, but wtf, i had a minor tweak or two to suggest, for the end.
Sweet Little, in the hard belly
Of the earth. Has a window.
Dies with the perfect picture-
Frame. Buried. Alone.
It’s true! It is true that where dark
Is deepest, light is most light.
Deepest hole. Most radiant window.
Lucky Nellie fell, landed in inside of it.
and i say that with the utmost respect for ambiguity, etc.
1. mainly because the tone does not anticipate the appearance of god (at least not so directly)
2. because i think the deepest light would be something different, almost-but-not-quite the same as the normal light we think of. by avoiding the repetition i think you get at that.
enjoyed reading this, my first exposure to your work. thanks!
--D
Thank you for the comments!!!!!! This is much appreciated!
I just plain love it! It sings.
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