Day 27 - Crossing the Water - by Sylvia Plath

Sylvia Plath is known for her autobiographical novel 'The Bell Jar' which I haven't read, but her poetry moves me with her extraordinary use of words that illicit such emotion and imagery. She was born in 1932 in America, but moved to the UK. Her poetry is so full of darkness and sometimes odd dazzling light which must have stemmed from her lifelong bouts of deep depression. Her creativity could not save her from the spiraling darkness.

Although she had two young children at home with her, she closed off the kitchen door, dampened and tucked a towel under the doorway, then turned on the oven and rested her head in it until she succumbed to carbon monoxide poisoning.

She won a Pulitzer Prize after her death for The Collected Poems.

Here is my spoken version of this poem:
https://soundcloud.com/raindrop-11/crossing-the-water

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Crossing the Water - by Sylvia Plath

Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people.
Where do the black trees go that drink here?
Their shadows must cover Canada.

A little light is filtering from the water flowers.
Their leaves do not wish us to hurry:
They are round and flat and full of dark advice.

Cold worlds shake from the oar.
The spirit of blackness is in us, it is in the fishes.
A snag is lifting a valedictory, pale hand;

Stars open among the lilies.
Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens?
This is the silence of astounded souls.

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