Even the World Must Rest
by Bernadette E. Kazmarski
Finished Monday, February 16, 2009
The night’s eternal darkness shifts to a color less black
and time begins again,
cobalt to cerulean spreading across the sky to snuff out the stars
and a glowing edge on the horizon heralds the sun
rising quickly to sparkle on leaves and faces
infusing the dank pre-dawn mist with warm yellow sunbeams
and the world is fully alive again
a miracle equal to life itself.
Since before our existence
consistently every day the sun brings its gift
travels across the sky at the same pace regardless of our issues
bright afternoons of life and work
remembered in the quality of light on that day,
the weather on another,
do you remember that sunny morning, cold and frosty?
no, it was late in the afternoon that happened, during a thunderstorm
the sun now drifting, dropping toward the opposite horizon
its loving light mellowed with the toil of its task
the ancients watch in fear as the aurora of color
heralds the loss of their life-giving god
and soon all is again covered with a nestling blanket
of darkness
and we may perish if it remains
but even the world, the busy life of this planet
must rest in darkness for part of the day
lest we destroy ourselves with our own productivity,
the sun must disappear
take the burden from its shoulders
loiter just out of sight
until you turn around to see
the change in the shade of black.
Rest, another day will come.
I have always struggled with bedtime. So much to do, and so many ideas every day, I got all my work done, maybe I'll just stay up a little later and get some work done on that painting...oh, there was that poem I drafted today, let me work on that...and before I know it I hear the church bells toll 4:00 a.m., or I notice the sky is less black outside the window, out of the corner of my eye.
I know that watching a sunrise after a night of creative activity, and my slight impatience with my not resting, inspired this poem. But I was apparently energized by what I'd done, enough to have the energy to at least draft the poem that came to mind as I stood at the window looking at the eastern horizon through the trees. I'm not focused enough when I first wake up to formulate a poem, but following a night of successful creative work I am charged.
And in my somewhat irregular life, the regularity of the sun rising and setting is a very reassuring thing. Being self-employed and working at home for nearly 25 years, I kept serious office hours for 20 of those years. Getting the work done by deadline was not negotiable. Family illnesses for a decade or more had me away from the office many days in some years and had to make up the time later in the day. And sometimes an idea that would not let me sleep, all were acceptable reasons for me to just stay up during those late hours with no interruptions and total focus. Sometimes staying up to work on my own things, writing, painting, music, any creative activity, was my reward for getting the daily work done. Sometimes the creative wheels just wanted to keep turning and I decided to let them go and follow along.
At the same time I love to end the day, feeling satisfied with what I've accomplished, and wake up the next morning anticipating another day of ideas and activities, my daily work, of course, but also working in my garden, running my errands often locally on foot or on my bike, cooking, spending time with my cats, even housework and activities outside of my house, as well as my own personal creative work.
But if I keep up that irregular schedule and miss out on sleep, because I'm wide awake and no time to nap during the day, I appreciate that regularity of the sun rising and setting to get me back on course. Even the plants in my garden need to rest overnight. And visualizing the planet turning and the dawn breaking and the sun setting as it spins, that community of experience is comforting.
Because I mentioned painting in this essay I thought I’d illustrate this poem with my paintings to match the lines. In order they are: Coral Sunset: How Small Beneath the Sky: Hemlocks Snowy Morning; Frosty Morning Just, Before Dawn; Spring Sunrise; Sunbeams; Carnegie Park, the Old Apple Tree; Carnegie Park, Dawn; From Carothers Bridge; Robinson Run, Early Spring; A Good Snow; Summer; How Many Sunsets; Dusk in the Woods; Winter; Sunset, Moonset; Coral Sunset.
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