Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Crestwaves of Joy
Crestwaves of Joy
Even though she chose
ecstasy
over despair,
it was still there,
tagging her
like an insistent shadow,
a dark face
springing up
from behind a tree.
She thought that when
she had been swallowed
by joy,
swept into the high sea
of passionate delight,
everything would be settled,
there would be no more
questioning of meanings,
of god.
And for a while,
that was the way things went,
from crestwave of joy
to swells of rapture,
thrills too difficult
to sustain.
But then the shadows returned,
not threatening,
but thrusting forth
a question,
are you certain?
Where is the rest
of the puzzle?
What is light
that does not carry
its own dark image within?
Even though she chose
ecstasy
over despair,
it was still there,
tagging her
like an insistent shadow,
a dark face
springing up
from behind a tree.
She thought that when
she had been swallowed
by joy,
swept into the high sea
of passionate delight,
everything would be settled,
there would be no more
questioning of meanings,
of god.
And for a while,
that was the way things went,
from crestwave of joy
to swells of rapture,
thrills too difficult
to sustain.
But then the shadows returned,
not threatening,
but thrusting forth
a question,
are you certain?
Where is the rest
of the puzzle?
What is light
that does not carry
its own dark image within?
Dorothy Walters
Nov.20, 2008
(Photo by Patricia Lay-Dorsey)
