Chateau Noir, Paul Cézanne
Now Eurydice walked at the hand of a god,
her steps, constricted by the winding sheets,
uncertain, meek, without impatience.
She was deep within herself like a woman full with child,
and gave no thought now to the man who walked ahead
or the path that rose toward life.
She was deep within herself, and her having died
was a fullness she carried.
Like a fruit, she was filled with the sweetness
and darkness of her huge death,
still so new she could hardly grasp it.
She had entered a new virginity,
had becomes untouchable; her sex had closed
like a wildflower toward evening,
and her hands were so estranged from marriage
that even the god's touch, infinitely light,
disturbed her as too familiar.
Sweetness and darkness, burden and release, constriction and freedom. . . the opposing forces are so vivid.ReplyDelete
yes, i struggle inside of this. i can't help it. the release is such freedom and yet with her wildflower closing i can do nothing but balk at this from inside of me. how could there be release then? how might fulfillment come, when this is the center we urge to fill real and metaphorically?ReplyDelete