Child

Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing.
I want to fill it with color and ducks,
The zoo of the new

Whose names you meditate
April snowdrop, Indian pipe,
Little

Stalk without wrinkle,
Pool in which images
Should be grand and classical

Not this troublous
Wringing of hands, this dark
Ceiling without a star.

- Sylvia Plath

CultFit Cloud

About these ads

5 Comments on “Child”

  1. Sandra says:

    Ahhhh. The mysterious, elusive, glowing and beautiful Indian Pipe. How I miss seeing your Beaty in the north woods. :-)

  2. katelon says:

    I used to work with Central American refugees, starting when the US was fighting it’s covert war in Nicaragua.I started my work doing music with the refugee children. One day we were signing “old macdonal’s farm” with some Spanish thrown in and two adults walked into the room and put the National anthem tape into the tape player. These young children stood at attention and I was struck with the reality that these children had grown up in a war zone. I knew it intellectually before, of course, but to see 3 and 4 year olds aware of that music, filled me with the horror there young eyes had already seen.

    • CultFit says:

      During my travels for work in the Middle East and Central Asia, far too often I have witnessed children, the purest of all souls tainted by war and unfathomable hardship … I don’t know – Just the thought is very troubling to me, even to this day.

  3. Maia says:

    “Not this troublous
    Wringing of hands, this dark
    Ceiling without a star.”

    Most times it doesn’t even take a war to trouble the eyes of the innocent. The very homes where they should be safest?? – are not.

    This hits home, Cult…