Myth Poem by Natasha Trethewey
Myth
I was asleep while you were dying.
It's as if you slipped through some rift, a hollow
I make between my slumber and my waking,
the Erebus I keep you in, still trying
not to let go. You'll be dead again tomorrow,
but in dreams you live. So I try taking
you back into morning. Sleep-heavy, turning,
my eyes open, I find you do not follow.
Again and again, this constant forsaking.
Again and again, this constant forsaking:
my eyes open, I find you do not follow.
You back into morning, sleep-heavy, turning.
But in dreams you live. So I try taking,
not to let go. You'll be dead again tomorrow.
The Erebus I keep you in—still, trying—
I make between my slumber and my waking.
It's as if you slipped through some rift, a hollow.
I was asleep while you were dying.
ou'll be dead again tomorrow, but in dreams you live. So I try taking you back into morning. Sleep-heavy, turning, my eyes open, I find you do not follow. very original way of presentation. tony
Heartrending. It is the poet's calling to put down in words the sounds our hearts make as they are breaking, the odd things that our eyes see or wish to see again, the skin we will never feel again- -so that we never forget what it is to be brokenly human.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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10/12/2024 6:51:20 PM # 1.0.0
I was asleep while you were dying. I make between my slumber and my waking. It's as if you slipped through some rift, a hollow. a very fine poem. tony