The field of death illuminated
Light suspended, in suspension
pigment in medium,
applied, brushed and varnished
but not glossed – so much loss
at what cost
By their own light
those who could not fight
search for signs of life
Wandering in suspension
the crowds pass in
muted tones, hushed and dim
making their own inspection
frame by frame
mostly weighed by age
and time, and glossed
by the wonder of art’s rime
This is the first of three ekphrastic poems that I’m going to share from the trip my daughter and I made to see an exhibition of Turner paintings at the Kimbell Art Museum earlier this year. THIS is the painting that the poem is based on. Thank you for reading!
The Poetry Patio 