I join a monthly online writing workshop with Sarah Sentilles. Today the invitation was to write about darkness or blackness in a way that went around the usual negative associations which often unconsciously underlie our attitudes to colour. A few years ago I stood reading the opening page of a book about sleep in an op shop. It began, “Darkness does not fall, it rises.’
I have felt wordless about Black Lives Matter. Here is something that perhaps tells it slant.
Photograph, East Gippsland, Ian Ferguson, with thanks.
Darkness rises. We treated it like a felon as if it fell upon us unawares. But darkness rises. It enfolds the world in shadows. Shade for resting. Its misty veils grow dense, layer upon layer, from chiffon to velvet. The darkness offers itself. Let it assure you, ‘Be not afraid, I am here to protect you, to give you rest, to steal sweetly through the world’s weariness. Here is a slow-wrought ending, here is closure. Come, even the trees are resting.’
