"Blue Moon" by Aviv

It’s a fairy tale of sorts, a tale of two kingdoms, the Kingdom of Light and the Kingdom of Darkness. 

A beautiful, kind princess lives in the Kingdom of Light, and her life is filled with the kind of lovely things you’d expect. Across the shared river is the Kingdom of Darkness, ruled by a prince. One day, as the princess and her court picnic on the riverbank, she looks across and feels an almost irresistible attraction – for what, exactly, she’s not sure. She starts swimming. The members of the court think she’s merely doing a short swim, but this time, she swims to the other side.

 

The prince of Darkness, for his part, has also been feeling an attraction. The two meet, and the rest, as they say, is fairy tale history. Almost. There is more to come, much more, and what is coming will threaten everyone.

 

Aviv

Blue Moon: A Love Story Between Darkness and Light is the first short novel, in fact, the first story published by an Israeli writer who is simply calls himself Aviv, a name that I believe translates into English as “Spring.” What we know about him is he was born in the 1970s and that he’s long been an enthusiast about myths, fairy tales, and legends. And with Blue Moon, he’s written one, and it’s delightfully illustrated by Shani Atzmon.

 

You can take the story at face value and read it as a love story between two people and told as a fairy tale. You can also read it as a metaphorical exploration of the human psyche, with all of us being composed of darkness and light. You could also read it geopolitically, but I don’t think that’s the author’s intention. Instead, he’s told a story, and you are to make of it as you will.

Some Monday Readings

 

Blue sky – poem and artwork by Sonja Benskin Miller.

 

Walking England’s Coast Part 1: From Dover to Romney – Chris Arnade at Walking the World.

 

Ernest Hemingway survived 2 plane crashes. His letter from it just sold for $237,055 – Jennifer Ludden at NPR. 

 

Dreaming spires? Arnold’s Oxford – Nicholas Shrimpton at New Criterion.

 

 

Early autumn light

Early autumn light
filters through branches
and leaves, parading
itself with shadows 
and patterns, fluid,
changing itself and
being changed by 
a brief puff of wind,
a passing bird sailing
on light-leavened currents,
a cloud.  

Early autumn light,
transient, ever-changing,
is discernible only
when paired with
darkness or shadow
ebbing toward
its wintry death. 
To understand the light,
first understand the dark.

Heart of Darkness: "One of the Dark Places of the Earth"

Five of you – friends, business colleagues, and the boss – are meandering your way down a river. It’s an early evening get-together, and you’re enjoying the company and the beverages. The sun has just set. It’s that early moment of dusk when the world becomes shades of gray. You’re feeling a bit mellow; it’s a bit of an escape from work and life in the city you just left behind.

Suddenly, you hear this: “And this also has been one the dark places of the earth.”

No one responds, except perhaps for a raised eyebrow or a slight roll of the eyes. The one who said it is known for such things. He’s also known for telling long stories, and you suspect you’re in for one. 

You're right; you are.

To continue reading, please see my post today at Dancing Priest.

Sunset, briefly reconsidered

Darkness proceeds, gathering

strength, chasing the cotton cloth

of light as it, in turn, diminishes,

a few vestiges still scattered

on the placid surface of water,

when,

right before a final triumph,

a crew of nine sculls its way,

silently slicing the surface.

Growing darkness and fading light

pause momentarily; the fate

of the emerging stars is suddenly

in doubt. 

Light briefly considers mounting

a counterattack before deciding 

a strategic retreat, knowing its time 

is coming again.

The editors of Tweetspeak Poetry are hosting a 30-Day, 30-Poem Challenge for Earth Month entitled, appropriately enough, Poetic Earth Month. Today, the featured poem is an excerpt from the poem “Trouble in Paradise” by Maureen Doallas, included in her collection Neruda’s Memoirs. The poetry prompt is to write a poem pointing to some kind of loss or joyous arrival of something or someone.

Photograph: Creve Coeur Lake, St. Louis County, Missouri.

Darkness comes

After John 17:11-15

We know the darkness

because of the light, and

the darkness comes as

it drives light before it.

Flickers remain, protected

from darkness as it moves

and surrounds. The lights

remain, pockets of small bursts

highlighting the deepening

around them. Protected,

they endure.

Photograph by Jaanus Jagomagi via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Pathways

After I John 1:5-2:2

The two paths present a choice,

not a choice of high road

and low road, not the kind

of journey to the same place,

not a road taken or not taken,

but a choice more stark,

more obvious: a path of light

or a path of darkness.

We can’t choice darkness

believing our own light

is sufficient, for our own light

will be overcome (easily);

the darkness is too deep,

too thick, too overwhelming

to be overcome by our own light.

A different light is required, needed,

demanded to see clearly,

to understand deeply, to know

with certainty. The choice is

a double one: to choose the path

of light and to choose the light

ordained. The path is a single one:

not many paths, or even two,

but only one,

one to choose

and one to reject.

Photograph by Andrew Neel via Unsplash. Used with permission.

The ninth hour

After Romans 5:6-11

The darkness came

at the ninth hour, when

the day should have been filled

with light. The darkness rolled

across the landscape, the clouds

heaving in agony, rocks cracking,

the wind tearing at men’s souls,

hearts, minds. The darkness came

and tore the curtain, the veil,

in one motion ripping the authority,

shredding, a sound like a scream.

The darkness rolled and thickened

like fog, its initial mystery transformed

into a terror, a wrath poured out

upon a substitution. The darkness poured

through hearts and minds and souls

and spirits, flowing in love,

a terrible, terrifying love.

Photograph by Elti Meschau via Unsplash. Used with permission.