For the
Sleepwalkers
Tonight I
want to say something wonderful
for the sleepwalkers who have so much faith
in their legs, so much faith in the invisible
arrow carved into the carpet, the worn path
that leads to the stairs instead of the window,
the gaping doorway instead of the seamless mirror.
I love the way that sleepwalkers are willing
to step out of their bodies into the night,
to raise their arms and welcome the darkness,
for the sleepwalkers who have so much faith
in their legs, so much faith in the invisible
arrow carved into the carpet, the worn path
that leads to the stairs instead of the window,
the gaping doorway instead of the seamless mirror.
I love the way that sleepwalkers are willing
to step out of their bodies into the night,
to raise their arms and welcome the darkness,
palming
the blank spaces, touching everything.
Always they return home safely, like blind men
who know it is morning by feeling shadows.
Always they return home safely, like blind men
who know it is morning by feeling shadows.
And
always they wake up as themselves again.
That's why I want to say something astonishing
like: Our hearts are leaving our bodies.
That's why I want to say something astonishing
like: Our hearts are leaving our bodies.
Our hearts are thirsty black handkerchiefs
flying through the trees at night, soaking up
the darkest beams of moonlight, the music
of owls, the motion of wind-torn branches.
And now our hearts are thick black fists
flying back to the glove of our chests.
And now our hearts are thick black fists
flying back to the glove of our chests.
We have to learn to trust our hearts like that.
We have to learn the desperate faith of sleep-
walkers who rise out of their calm beds
and walk through the skin of another life.
We have to drink the stupefying cup of darkness
and wake up to ourselves, nourished and surprised.
~
Edward Hirsch ~
After reading this poem didn't even want to move on and read
the rest of the poems. For the
Sleepwalkers by Edward Hirsch had such an air of imagination and intrigue
that caught me up and didn't let go. I find the idea of people who are out of
the norm and who are envied because of that fact very interesting. This poem
also gave me a strong sense that it was about God which I liked. (I don’t know
if it is about God, but that is how I saw it.)
When I read this poem, I thought of the sleepwalkers as people who have such an amazing faith in God that they are essentially fearless. “…the sleepwalkers who have so much faith in their legs, so much faith in the invisible arrow carved into the carpet, the worn path that leads to the stairs instead of the window, the gaping doorway instead of the seamless mirror.” I thought if these lines as saying that the sleepwalkers go places that no one else is willing to go, to the places that are not as familiar or as safe (I thought of some of the places the sleepwalkers go being like death. They have so much faith that even death doesn't scare them; it is just another adventure). And always they wake up themselves again, reminded me of when people tell you that having faith isn't about losing yourself, but about broadening your understanding of yourself through your faith. So when the sleepwalkers get back from their “journey,” they are always still themselves, just with more insight and experience.
I love how in the end, instead of just talking about the sleepwalkers, Hirsch starts saying, “we,” and, “our,” and pulls himself and the audience into the plot. “Our hearts are thirsty black handkerchiefs….We have to learn to trust our hearts….” The sleepwalkers are just like us and, therefore, we can be like them, free, fearless, and faithful.
When I read this poem, I thought of the sleepwalkers as people who have such an amazing faith in God that they are essentially fearless. “…the sleepwalkers who have so much faith in their legs, so much faith in the invisible arrow carved into the carpet, the worn path that leads to the stairs instead of the window, the gaping doorway instead of the seamless mirror.” I thought if these lines as saying that the sleepwalkers go places that no one else is willing to go, to the places that are not as familiar or as safe (I thought of some of the places the sleepwalkers go being like death. They have so much faith that even death doesn't scare them; it is just another adventure). And always they wake up themselves again, reminded me of when people tell you that having faith isn't about losing yourself, but about broadening your understanding of yourself through your faith. So when the sleepwalkers get back from their “journey,” they are always still themselves, just with more insight and experience.
I love how in the end, instead of just talking about the sleepwalkers, Hirsch starts saying, “we,” and, “our,” and pulls himself and the audience into the plot. “Our hearts are thirsty black handkerchiefs….We have to learn to trust our hearts….” The sleepwalkers are just like us and, therefore, we can be like them, free, fearless, and faithful.
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