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Going Dark, a poem by Liza Hyatt

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.