Kwame Dawes. Courtesy photo. It is not entirely clear what has arrived, here in this poem “Psalm For Arrival.”
What is clear, is the familiar sense that sometimes, after a long effort, we are able to “find sounds/ for words” — to articulate, the difficult stuff of memory.
And perhaps this is what has arrived, the voicing of the difficult things.
In the end, however, Khaled Mattawa finds no great relief in speaking these words. Somehow the deadening effects of memory can be persistent, despite our necessary efforts to disavow “old sentiments”.
Psalm For Arrival By Khaled Mattawa
When we find the sounds for words we need, their death rattle begins to echo in our throats.
Memory creeps up on old sentiments, finds them lurking like blind fish in the twilight of our blood.
Dead and living on—ancient prophecies or frozen microbes—something we disavow continues to feed on us.
Kwame Dawes. Courtesy photo. It is not entirely clear what has arrived, here in this poem “Psalm For Arrival.”
What is clear, is the familiar sense that sometimes, after a long effort, we are able to “find sounds/ for words” — to articulate, the difficult stuff of memory.
And perhaps this is what has arrived, the voicing of the difficult things.
In the end, however, Khaled Mattawa finds no great relief in speaking these words. Somehow the deadening effects of memory can be persistent, despite our necessary efforts to disavow “old sentiments”.
Psalm For Arrival By Khaled Mattawa
When we find the sounds for words we need, their death rattle begins to echo in our throats.
Memory creeps up on old sentiments, finds them lurking like blind fish in the twilight of our blood.
Dead and living on—ancient prophecies or frozen microbes—something we disavow continues to feed on us.