(For Monica, on the Day of Silence)
Today, the Day of Silence,
Virginia Woolf's only record
Of her voice will speak for me.
I'm observing silence
On Facebook, with others,
Yet one of them in the social net
Shared this item.
Virginia was also silenced,
In her way, by her circumstance
Of time and place and class and sex,
Entangled in a social net
That dragged her down
She took pen in hand,
Perhaps thought of Vita,
Before filling her pockets
With rocks, and strolled forth
From a room of her own
To the river.
Her voice, I knew, spoke on
In print on page, black and white
Photographs and images.
But I did not know
That she would sound
Exactly as I'd imagined:,
Reserve, clarity, precise diction
Weaving elegant phrases,
Stating things
"Past examining."
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c. 2010 Todd Eliot
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E8czs8v6PuI&feature=related
NOTE: This recording had me saying (as I often do) "There's a poem in there somewhere." There was. This time, it poured out like water, instead of being carved or cobbled together.
- T -
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