In the Dark

what would I do without this world faceless incurious
where to be lasts but an instant where every instant
spills in the void the ignorance of having been
without this wave where in the end
body and shadow together are engulfed
what would I do without this silence where the murmurs die
the pantings the frenzies towards succour towards love
without this sky that soars
above its ballast dust

what would I do what I did yesterday and the day before
peering out of my deadlight looking for another
wandering like me eddying far from all the living
in a convulsive space
among the voices voiceless
that throng my hiddenness

by Samuel Beckett (1906-89)

This entry was posted on April 28, 2022 at 5:17 pm and is filed under Poetry with tags Poetry, Poetry Day Ireland, Samuel Beckett. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.