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Posts Tagged ‘Sylvia Plath’

The British Library

Sylvia Plath, you could not know how the black ink would pierce my heart, for I am a mother too or surely you would not have written such things. Now I understand the weight of motherhood and London and such longing as not even words can convey. You are here, nestled among Shakespeare’s manuscripts, the Guttenberg Bible, codices of Eastern theology and the Magna Carta. But you already knew there was nothing to believe in, not words or Gods, and certainly not men. Sylvia, I picture you kneeling on the floor, your hair unkempt, your kitchen messy. And what I feel for you is not the sympathy of a sister, but the anger of a daughter. Oh, do it already. Put us out of our misery. But even that does not bring the rain to an end, and when we emerge with our parcels, the gray surrounds us as it must, even now, cover you.

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