The moon, a tide of light, turns everything into a river;
the white,.. overpowers me, dazzles me with a flash,
and exposes the things that lay covered in the blanket of night.
I stand amazed with a white umbrella over my head.
It's white intensity, a scorching ice. a burning ice.
No
end seems to be in sight even if I walk the whole night through this tidal wave of light.
Françoise DhulesiaThe over-exposed style created by the use of a high key lighting in the photograph is very beautifully expressed in the poem in the use of two oxymora and anaphora that I liked: "a scortching ice", a burning ice".
And of course, the presence of the
narrator, this "I", always recurrent in
Sushama's poetry! How intimate!
The poem beautifully ends on the climax of the last phrase: "this tidal wave of light", that very moment when the text and the photo meet in unison, celebrating the fascinating power of light.
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