Navigating in the Dark
Erik Campbell
Papua, Indonesia
In this mining town in Papua the electricity
Has a habit of giving up at night, and this
Is a miracle of modern stasis, a secular Shabbat,
Reminding us of what is expendable, of how so few
Of us ever truly experience the dark. We are amazed,
My wife and I, with the heavy darkness
Of the no moon jungle, insect sounds lacerating
All illusions of silent places. “It’s so absolute,”
My wife says, and I like to think she means
More than the darkness; the naked places
Of ourselves we dress in sunlight, lamps,
And recorded music like antithetical
Blanche DeBois’s fearing a different sort
Of scrutiny. “We could pretend it’s 1940,”
I say, “put a Jack Benny tape on the short wave
And drink coffee, light candles.” She suggests
A walk outside instead, where there are dozens
Of others already out on paths bounded by jungle,
Stepping small and laughing loudly through various
Uncertainties; flashlights as eyes, ears like animals’.
Soon we are trying only to remember not to disappear
Altogether; everything is so absolutely, so darkly possible.
What is your definition or example of an absolute? It's difficult to think of absoultes. Even to consider absolutes takes a literal intake of breath, a slowing down to a halt. Perhaps this is so, because there's so much gray area between the absolute hemispheres of black and white of our lives, our realities.
I like the absolute black of a city block during a power outage. No ambient light fingering its way into your consciousness. It's only you and the darkness.
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