How Dark The Beginning

by Maggie Smith

All we ever talk of is light—
let there be light, there was light then,

good light—but what I consider
dawn is darker than all that.

So many hours between the day
receding and what we recognize

as morning, the sun cresting
like a wave that won’t break

over us—as if light were protective,
as if no hearts were flayed,

no bodies broken on a day
like today. In any film,

the sunrise tells us everything
will be all right. Danger wouldn’t

dare show up now, dragging
its shadow across the screen.

We talk so much of light, please
let me speak on behalf

of the good dark. Let us
talk more of how dark

the beginning of a day is.

Like yesterday’s poem, this one by Maggie Smith is focused on darkness—on a darkness that presages a day. It’s not as gloomy as Hopkins’ poem, but it seems to me to have a similar idea at its heart, if framed differently. It’s dark now, yes, but a day is dark for a long time before there is any light. We can savour the darkness too.