sculpture and poem
From a post by Sandra Barry on The Elizabeth Bishop Centenary Blog, about her trip to Brazil for a conference. By permission
There were many grand moments (the beach in Rio, for example), but some of the most memorable were the tiny, often brief encounters with something (for example, coming upon a white horse standing quietly on a cobbled street in Tiradentes, early in the morning when the mist was heavy and everything was still). One of the most memorable moments for me was seeing a small sculpture done by Aleijadinho of a mother and child reading. It was in a glass case in a museum in Mariana and it cut right through my astonishment and spoke about the way we are all connected. It triggered a little poem.
Mother and child reading
(after a sculpture by Aleijadinho)
for Susan Kerslake
The silence in the pause between words
held forever in the grain. The dark wood
still and moving in the same moment
not of Revelation but realization
repeated day after day; the turn of the page,
the cut of the chisel. Who were they?
Why this moment? when breath is quiet
and meaning gentle. So much hidden purpose
carved lovingly in the hands. Two figures
fused, formed by the delight of life,
by the compulsion of mind and heart.
Two figures part of a lifelong leap of faith.
Two centuries and more, and then
my eyes startled by a warm sienna
gesture, texture raw and lucent.
I can only hold this magic in my mind,
carry it like a day-dream. Then fold
their durable embrace into the silence
between my words.
This entry was originally posted at http://thnidu.dreamwidth.org/1414975.html. You can comment here, or there using OpenID or your Dreamwidth ID.
comments there so far.
There were many grand moments (the beach in Rio, for example), but some of the most memorable were the tiny, often brief encounters with something (for example, coming upon a white horse standing quietly on a cobbled street in Tiradentes, early in the morning when the mist was heavy and everything was still). One of the most memorable moments for me was seeing a small sculpture done by Aleijadinho of a mother and child reading. It was in a glass case in a museum in Mariana and it cut right through my astonishment and spoke about the way we are all connected. It triggered a little poem.
Mother and child reading
(after a sculpture by Aleijadinho)
for Susan Kerslake
The silence in the pause between words
held forever in the grain. The dark wood
still and moving in the same moment
not of Revelation but realization
repeated day after day; the turn of the page,
the cut of the chisel. Who were they?
Why this moment? when breath is quiet
and meaning gentle. So much hidden purpose
carved lovingly in the hands. Two figures
fused, formed by the delight of life,
by the compulsion of mind and heart.
Two figures part of a lifelong leap of faith.
Two centuries and more, and then
my eyes startled by a warm sienna
gesture, texture raw and lucent.
I can only hold this magic in my mind,
carry it like a day-dream. Then fold
their durable embrace into the silence
between my words.
This entry was originally posted at http://thnidu.dreamwidth.org/1414975.html. You can comment here, or there using OpenID or your Dreamwidth ID.
comments there so far.