{"id":2098,"date":"2022-06-09T01:30:36","date_gmt":"2022-06-09T01:30:36","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/jucovy.com\/?page_id=2098"},"modified":"2022-06-13T20:21:28","modified_gmt":"2022-06-13T20:21:28","slug":"the-poem","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/jucovy.com\/index.php\/morning-afternoon-evening\/the-poem\/","title":{"rendered":"The Poem"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<pre class=\"wp-block-verse has-pale-cyan-blue-background-color has-background has-medium-font-size\">Poem excerpts used in \u201cMorning, Afternoon, Evening\u201d \nTaken from \u201c<a href=\"https:\/\/drive.google.com\/file\/d\/16DpA0czn1CD9IKk52vG2BZsggd1scsqF\/view?usp=sharing\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noreferrer noopener\" title=\"The Subject and Power\">The Subject and Power<\/a>\u201d by Kyra Jucovy \u00a9 2012\n\nI. Morning  \nAll things begin in darkness, such as \nThe day, because, no matter how you define it, \nThere is always that moment of darkness \nWhen the sun peeks out; there is darkness, \nFor, in order for the light to prick holes through the sky, \nThere must be a dark veil to be pricked. \nIn order for the sun\u2019s head to poke out, \nIt must first be underneath the blankets. \nAll things begin in darkness, such as \nThe river. We are standing by the spring now, \nWhere the water leaps to greet the air, \nBut this is only the source we can get to. \nDown beneath the grey stones is never-challenged darkness, Crystalline caves echoing with the water dropping, \nPooling up, and creating pressure until \nIt bursts forth here where we are now.  \nAll things begin in darkness, such as Our journey. \nOnly night-vision guides us as we set out,  \nStep by tentative step,  \nOnly night-vision and the soft susurrus  \nOf the snaking route beside us in the darkness,  \nBut darkness will not last forever, \nAnd so the dawn begins when the sky begins to brighten,  \nAnd the river begins when the streamlet trickles down to the meeting place,  And the journey has begun but continues as we pick our way  By the whispering streamlet  \nOver the primordial mud on the rocks  \nInto the indecipherable glow of the sky  \nUntil the rushing friends begin to mingle \nUntil the whisper turns to gurgling laughter \nUntil the glowing light coalesces as sun \nUntil it becomes easier to rush down like the stream beside us, Until the stream beside us hits the gaps, \nHalts, holds its breath, leaps \u2013 falls \u2013 \nUntil water falls!\nWaterfalls! Waterfalls \u2013 where the paints spilled by the sun Pour down glittering over the white ridges, \nWhere the laughter becomes cacophony, \nWhere the simple becomes complex, \nWhere a sheer chaotic swirl bounces forth \nLike a little explosion of Heaven bursting on the Earth, A bomb of joy destroying mundanity, \nThe breath of love diffusing in our hearts \u2013 \nI love the waterfalls reflecting the daylight, \nWhich is why I bless the light. \nI adore being here at this point, \nWhich is why I bless the journey. \nThere is perfection in the glinting rainbows of waterfalls, Except for the cold wind rising up behind us \nI do not understand the wind, deeply, \nBut I wonder \u2013 does the wind arise in darkness \nDoes the wind secretly sneak out of some metaphorical darkness, Or is the wind birthed abominably within the light To chase us cruelly down the mountain? \nI could stay by waterfalls forever, \nExcept that we have made plans to go on a journey, And except that there is a cold wind rising up behind us, Sapping the comfort from the banks, \nAnd except that the rainbows will be destroyed in darkness, And so we continue to tumble down the mountain, As the streams combine, edging parabolically towards river, As the colors brighten, the world blooming into full day, And as the wind is ever at our backs. \nThe force that pulls us forth is gravity, desire, \nBut violence is the force that pushes us on.\n\nII. Afternoon \nThe nature of our location has long been plain. \nPlains, it is clear, are flat and broad. \nThe ideal plain is covered with green \u2013 \nGreen grass, flowers, life shooting up to greet the sun. \nSometimes plains mutate into forests, \nWhich are shady respite, restful nuance \nTo the sunbaked continuity of plains,\nDarker browns and softer shade, \nWhat lurk behind the plain and the forest are two things: \nOne \u2013 the flatness, so that, when the soft breeze rubs against our faces, It would take ten thousand years until our gaze breaks \nAgainst the blips, more like symbols now than mountains, And, when we look where we intuitively know must be downwards, There is no visible hint of slope, \nAnd where we are could last forever; \nAnd two \u2013 the river, a blue mirror of the green in the plains, A level pause in the midst of the forest, \nBut always the river, the same concept in every context, \nEternally threading through the landscape mat like fate, \nGravity, desire, violence \u2013 omnipresent. \nThe category is the middle. \nThe category is a balance. \nThe category is the farthest point. \nThe category is the afternoon \nOf our journey, \nFor, as we travel easily, lazily, over the river banks, \nBask in the sun, dawdle in the shade, \nAs the river rumbles in its broad, steady maturity, \nAs the buzz of insects suffuses the afternoon with calm, \nAlthough I cannot deny a certain aura of suspension, \nA moment stretching, backward and forwards, some twenty thousand years, Our presence implies a progress. \nWe are journeying yet. \nOur stagnation is uncorrelated with rest. \nWe are journeying yet, \nEven if motion has blurred into stillness. \nWe are journeying yet, \nI have not forgotten the mountains, \nBut I only experience them now as abstractions, \nSymbolic, removed, remembered, but only remembered. Life is and therefore must have been always \nEasy and flat, step by unhesitant step. \nI have not forgotten the waterfalls, \nMy journey has removed me from the waterfalls. \nWhat is absent is not what is present. \nWhat is present has the quality of eternity, \nEven if it has not the property of eternity,\nI have not forgotten gravity, desire, violence, \nBut gravity is hidden in the vales,  \nAnd desire has devolved into a parody,  \nAs desire always devolves into a parody  \nOne might define habit  \nas a parody of desire.  \nI know journeying devolves into a habit  \nWhen the motive force of each step after step  \nStops being a vital power  \nand retreats into a past self  \nSo that one\u2019s mind disconnects from one\u2019s body,  And someone else seems to be in control.  \nWhatever thoughts, feelings, and desires  \nFlicker in the spirit  \nthere is no connection to the journey  \nAnd so one is alive and thinking  \nand simultaneously A ghost  \nand a robot programmed by a ghost  \nIn a repetitive loop of action.  \nNot that there is anything wrong with journeying. Not that I fail to take pleasure in journeying, \nAnd the day is warm, and the sounds are soft, \nThe light is lovely and the flowers fragrant, \nThe colors bright and the company engaging, \nThe weariness bearable and the routine comfortable, But the desire is veiled and hidden. \nAs for violence \u2013 I have not forgotten the wind, But the wind is and must have been always \nA ghost itself, a hint only, and certainly pleasant. \nI wonder why I ever chose the wind as a symbol When it is not only material but also \nMundane and barely noticeable. \nAfter ten thousand years, we become desensitized to violence. The journey is and therefore must have been always, \nBut that is self-evident.\n\nEvening \n\nPart 1 Transition into Evening\nAll things end in darkness, such as \nThe day, which is something that ends slowly. \nAs we walk on, there is a gradual dimming. \nThe sun is no light bulb to blink out in an instant, But it is as though you look up, and the sky is blue \u2013 Then \u2013 you think the sky is still blue but \nYou realize that the quality of light is different \u2013 \nAs though the sky has been folded back on itself \u2013 \nIt always was, you think, a blanket, \nAnd now it is just doubled back to darken. \nThe sun has grown old throughout the day. \nNow it is no child playing with bright blues and greens. It has taken up a different sort of paint, and, behind us, Spills of it like autumn leaves or berry stains \nBegin to alter the plain pattern. \nAll things end in darkness, such as \nThe river. Out ahead of us, sky and sea become darkness. \nLimits are blurred, everything is blurred, \nThe sound of water beating back on the shore is a blurring sound. The scent of salt in the air is a blurring of boundaries. This sharpness is dying away, \nAll to be consumed by darkness. \nAll things end in darkness, such as \nOur journey. \n\nPart 2: Reverie \nShe says, all things begin in darkness. \nShe asks, do you remember the spring, \nBubbling and frothy, pouring forth \nThe water liberated from eons of caved darkness? I say, I remember the spring, \nBut all things end in darkness. \nShe asks, do you remember the dawn, \nAnd the first gleamings of light as the blanket became thinner? I say, I remember the dawn, \nBut all things end in darkness. \nShe says, do you remember the mountains, \nHow hard it was to clamber down over the rocks, Without slipping, the long distant view down\nWhen our gaze followed gravity twenty thousand years into the distance? I say, I remember the mountains, \nBut all things end in darkness. \nShe says, do you remember the wind \nWhen it seemed to bring a hint of snow and chill, \nAs if to remind us that the mountains stretch up beyond \nEven our imaginations, into the snow-capped peaks at the start of the world? I say, I remember the wind, \nBut all things end in darkness. \nShe says, do you remember the plains, \nWhere we walked together and laughed, \nAnd the river was wide and untroubled? \nI say, I remember the plains, \nBut all things end in darkness. \nShe says, do you remember the flowers, \nWhose fragrance was almost imperceptible, \nA hint, only, but pervasive, stretching throughout the day, And whose colors gave beauty to the light? \nI say, I remember the flowers, \nBut all things end in darkness. \nShe says, do you remember our journey. \nI say, I remember our journey. \nShe says, all things begin in darkness, \nSo I want you to take my hand. \n\nPart 3 Gravity \nShe says, all things begin in darkness, \nOf course, there is a general drift downwards into darkness, But gravity is not the only force. \nIf it were, then gravity would already be forgotten, \nAs all things crunched together in an eternal compaction. \nFor gravity to start, there must be separation. \nThe water that has succumbed to gravity is stained by exhilaration, Excited, jumps up, invisibly leaping out against the call of gravity, Then darts, freed, through the air. \nThe water once imprisoned in caves away from the sun, \nHas finally reached its fruition, its ultimate experience of freedom, \nUntil the enthusiasm dies away, \nAnd habit can no longer conquer the absence of desire,\nAnd freedom devolves, first into formation, \nThen precipitation, guided by gravity, \nSo eventually, whether it is an immediate response, \nOr long delayed by eons hidden in pools below the earth, \nEach particle will return to the streamlets, \nAnd once again meet and join and flow down to the mouth, \nGuided again by gravity, \nAnd thus it is here, in the darkness and expanses, \nThat gravity is made possible, \nHere, where gravity fails to reign tyrannically, \nOnly here can be the source of gravity, \nSo I want you to take my hand \n\nPart 4 Violence \nThe spray beats endlessly against my face. \nI am still. \nShe says, all things begin in darkness. \nHere, where we stand, the storm will hit, \nThe waves will crash, water will eat away at land, \nEroding and devouring these tiny pebbles beneath our feet, \nThe tenacious remainder of a history of assault, \nEventually to be reclaimed and made again into darkness, \nAnd so, yes, there is violence here, \nBut it pales next to the violence in the darkness, \nWhere in the midst of the storm there is no land to be assaulted, Only water combatting water in a never-ending battle, \nSea rising up and lashing in pain against the sky, \nSky falling down in rivulets against the sea, \nWater on water, surge against surge, \nSea and sky indistinguishable, both nothing more \nThan whirlpools of insistent water clashing, crashing. \nOne endless stream of white water up and down in chaos, \nA waterfall and waterrise turned from cacophony into something more intense, All the noise and all the power in the world engulfed in water. \nWe live on the land, \nAnd so of course the force of water, \nSurging back against its children, \nRaging to recover what has become separate, \nIs the force that dismays us, \nDestroys our shelter, shocks us \nSo I want you to take my hand.\n\nPart 5 Desire \nI say, so gravity begins in darkness, and violence, \nBut what then of desire? \nShe says... \nDesire, I think, is like gravity, \nIt is only after something has defied gravity \nThat you can see the beginning of gravity. \nOnly, when something is empty of desire, \nCan you see the beginnings of desire. \nIf desire begins in the darkness, \nAnd if, as you insist, desire ends in the darkness, \nThen there must be a moment, out there, in the darkness, Empty of desire, a moment or an eternity of stillness, \nWithout even the ghost of desire. \nDoes desire build on desire? \nYes, I am sure a million hopes and dreams \nSpark each other in the human mind, \nAs the rush of gravity would pull the stream \nMore and more quickly down towards the bottom, \nBut each candle once lit, though it may light another before the end, Burns out inexorably. Eventually the wax melts, \nAnd all that is left are the stains of color dotting the tablecloth. What fire rages forever? \nAll stability is cyclic. \nwhere there is nothing, \nThere is everything to be desired. \nWhen you were a mind, and a ghost, and a robot programmed by a ghost, How real was your desire? \nIf the darkness kills desire, \nIt is also where desire will be born again. \nWhen you reach a goal, and the ghost dies, \nThen only can untainted desire rise from the ashes, \nSo I want you to take my hand. \n\nPart 6 Interlude \nThe sun has covered its paints with the blanket; \nThe birds are asleep; darkness is behind me \nAnd in front of me, we are almost already \nIn the darkness and the water. \nI can feel it all over me,\nWith darkness and water surrounding me, above and below, Left and right, before and behind, \nI have no sense of direction, \nBut, without direction, I can have no sense of gravity. There is no easiest path to take. \nShe says, I want you to take my hand. \nFat drops of rain blur together with ocean spray. \nIf I am without gravity, I may also be without desires. \nThere are no distinctions, \nAnd one path is as good as another, \nAnd she wants me to take her hand. \n\nPart 7 Epiphany \nViolence is justified in self-defense, I hear \nBut otherwise one is pushed by violence, not pulled by it Surely it is better to avoid violence. \nSurely one universal desire is to escape violence. \nOut there in the darkness, she told me, there is violence,  Endless violence, the sea will seem calm but at its core, violence The sharks are eternally moving in the water,  \nI hear, the mermaids have sharp teeth \nThey bite into you and your blood pours out into the ocean. \nIf violence was the force that pushed us on, towards the darkness,  If violence lives in the darkness, \nAnd pushed us out of the darkness \nIf the quake that splits the earth to lift up the mountains is violence And the sea tears at the land in violence, fighting to take back What once arose out of it, pushed by violence \nThen the whole world is formed in violence. \nWe may wish \u2013 I do wish \u2013 for the vales to last forever, But the vales are a thin veneer between earthquakes and tsunamis. We cannot stretch it thinner \nWhen the world is a unity, \nWhen sea is sky and darkness darkness, \nOnly by tearing things apart can we return to distinctions. \nMaybe peace can conquer violence, next time. \nWe need to make the space to create it in, \nMake for thicker vales.\nHere, in the present maelstrom of violence, \nMy hair is whipped around by the wind, \nAlready wet and dripping little streamlets of its own, And I say, all things begin in darkness. \nThe wind is loud, the thunder fierce, \nThe sea fighting back with its own howls. \nShe needs to shout. \nShe shouts, from here on, \nWe will become the darkness. \n\nPart 8 Returning \nWe grab hands. \nHolding hands, forming a line, we rush together \nOut away from the majestic mountains, \nInto the pools where the water begins to creep up our legs, Out away from the plains, \nInto the salt and the streams of water caused by sudden darting fish, Out away from the darkness, \nInto the darkness, \nSea and sky and land drop away, \nDarkness is darkness is darkness. \nWe are rushing now, now that our journey \nHas ended and begun, rushing forth \nOut past the mouth into the sea, \nOut past our fear into emptiness, \nHolding hands, together, sweeping on \nIn the struggle to become the darkness.\n<\/pre>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<div class=\"entry-summary\">\nPoem excerpts used in \u201cMorning, Afternoon, Evening\u201d Taken from \u201cThe Subject and Power\u201d by Kyra Jucovy \u00a9 2012 I. Morning All things begin in darkness, such as The day, because, no matter how you define it, There is always that moment of darkness When the sun peeks out; there is darkness, For, in order for&hellip;\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"link-more\"><a href=\"https:\/\/jucovy.com\/index.php\/morning-afternoon-evening\/the-poem\/\" class=\"more-link\">Continue reading<span class=\"screen-reader-text\"> &ldquo;The Poem&rdquo;<\/span>&hellip;<\/a><\/div>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":1743,"menu_order":1,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"footnotes":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/jucovy.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2098"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/jucovy.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/jucovy.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jucovy.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jucovy.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2098"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/jucovy.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2098\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2103,"href":"https:\/\/jucovy.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2098\/revisions\/2103"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jucovy.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1743"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/jucovy.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2098"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}