Night

Silence known by the light tap
Of rain, of after-rain
Shedding from leaves.
Night known by the star outside,
And dark clouds rimmed
By the less-dark sky.
The day known
By its uncoiling down through cells,
Slowly, into silence and night.
Body known by the press of cover
On limb, of limb on sheet,
On bed, on soil and rock and Earth.
None of it to last, not silence
Or night, or cloud or star,
Or day or body or planet;
Silence a ring I have made
Against cars and planes;
Night a contrivance
Against surrounding light.

Alix Greenwood

Deconstruction

I think the sirens in The Odyssey sang The Odyssey,

for there is nothing more seductive, more terrible,

than the story of our own life, the one we do not

want to hear and will do anything to listen to.

Mary Ruefle

Alone together

Think of this – that the writer wrote alone, and the reader read alone, and they were alone with each other.

A.S. Byatt
Possession

Time passing and the name of night

Five thousand years ago, the Sumerians called the night ngi, the stars mul, and the moon Nanna.

Four thousand years ago, the Akkadians called the night mūšu, the stars kakkabū, and the moon Sîn.

Three thousand years ago, the Hittites called the night išpanza, the stars haštereš, and the moon Arma.

Two and a half thousand years ago, the Greeks called the night nux, the stars astra, and the moon Selênê.

Two thousand years ago, the Romans called the night nox, the stars stellae, and the moon Luna.

Kings and queens and heroes looked up at them. So did travelers coming home, and little children who sneaked out of bed. So did slaves, and mothers and soldiers and old shepherds, and Sappho and Muršili and Enheduanna and Socrates and Hatshepsut and Cyrus and Cicero. In this darkness it didn’t matter who they were, or where they stood. Only that they were human.

Think of that tonight, when you close your window. You are not alone. You share this night sky with centuries of dreamers and stargazers, and people who longed for quiet. Are you anxious? The Hittites were too: they called it pittuliyaš. Does your heart ache? The Greeks felt it too: they called it akhos. Those who look up to the stars for comfort are a family, and you belong to them. Your ancestors have stood under Nanna, Sîn, Arma, Selênê and Luna for five thousand years. Now its light is yours.

May it soothe you well.

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