Today we have a poem by Sarah Howe written for Stephen Hawking, followed by a video of Stephen Hawking reading it himself. As slowly as he speaks, I am guessing it took him a whole day to do this reading. British artist Bridget Smith added the visuals (graphite particles in motion) to the video.
by Sarah Howe
for Stephen Hawking
When we wake up brushed by panic in the dark
our pupils grope for the shape of things we know.
Photons loosed from slits like greyhounds at the track
reveal light’s doubleness in their cast shadows
that stripe a dimmed lab’s wall — particles no more ―
and with a wave bid all certainties goodbye.
For what’s sure in a universe that dopplers
away like a siren’s midnight cry? They say
a flash seen from on and off a hurtling train
will explain why time dilates like a perfect
afternoon; predicts black holes where parallel lines
will meet, whose stark horizon even starlight,
bent in its tracks, can’t resist. If we can think
this far, might not our eyes adjust to the dark?
The Poetry Friday round-up is at Check It Out.