Going Dark
“To
know the dark, go dark.” – Wendell Berry
I am in the
night place
where more dark
exists
for opened eyes
than closed
and silence
pushes into the ears.
Here fire is a
tongue.
I have held
fire,
have followed
the lipped contours
of a riverbank
in search of
the mouth from which it pours.
Now I kneel
down,
to grope my
way.
The ground is
trembling.
If I wake from
here,
into a bright,
loud world,
I will be mute
and visionless.
Now I reach
through throated black
to feel where I
am
and I touch
surprising water
which speaks in
the palm of my hand.
—by Liza Hyatt
Bio: Liza
Hyatt is the author
of The Mother Poems (Chatter House
Press, 2014); Stories Made of World (Finishing
Line Press, 2013); and Under My Skin
(WordTech Editions, 2012). She plays the Celtic harp, and in public
performances of her poetry, she often accompanies herself the harp, bardic
style. She hosts a monthly poetry reading/open mic at the Lawrence Art Center.