I want to gather your darkness
in my hands, to cup it like water
and drink.
I want this in the same way
as I want to touch your cheek—
it is the same—
the way a moth will come
to the bedroom window in late September,
beating and beating its wings against cold glass,
the way a horse will lower
his long head to water, and drink,
and pause to lift his head and look,
and drink again,
taking everything in with the water,
everything.
Hirshfield, Jane. Of Gravity & Angels. Ukraine, Wesleyan University Press, 2011.
Why I chose this poem
I have deep appreciation for the shadow, shade, and darkness. So much damage is done in the relentless pursuit of light.