Back to front, yet,read the right way it’s about a horse, memories, and the dull ache of being domesticated and dying slowly in depression from loneliness. Read backwards this is a forewarning, quasi ‘suicide note’ giving away hints to how she would prefer ... the poem ‘Ariel’ transforms from a description of horse into a self fulfilled prophesy becoming self sacrificial she gains her eternal soul... like Ariel... turned to... foam. She loses her life for love...literally.
her self, that she struggled with for so long, now, completely free...at last. That woman... made the boldest statement and with her own blood. I both hate her and love her at the same time. What a paradox. How selfishly cruel and at the same time. so lovingly kind. A pure poet.
Sylvia— lady of the forest,
your poem read back to you
backwards
dead:
—————————————————
I, yes, the cauldron of mourning
into the red
suicidal
at one with the drive
the draw that flies
am the arrow,
and I
melts into the wall.
the child’s cry
form to wait ( foam to wheat )
a glitter of seas
and now I
dead hands,
dead stringencies
Godiva— I unpeel
white
flakes from my heels.
thighs, hair;
hauls me through air—
something else
shadows.
black sweet blood mouthfuls,
cooks (hooks)
berries cast dark
nigger-rye ( nigger-eye )
of the neck I cannot catch
the brown arc
splits and passes,
sister to
pivot of heels and knees!
— the furrow
How one we grow
God’s loneliness ( lioness )
pour of tor ( torture )
and distances
then the substance blue
stasis in darkness.
RIP Dear Sylvia Plath you wretched beautiful worthy soul.
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