"Reflections of the Living Light"
From July 1st-August 15th, 2024, my poem "Reflections of the Living Light" was on view at the Wedding Cake House in Providence, Rhode Island, as part of their Word Shelter installation: an interactive sculpture designed to be in dialogue with pedestrians and RIPTA riders waiting at the bus stop in front of the building, with words appearing on an automated Vestaboard containing 132 modular characters that rotate at specified intervals. My poem was composed of 33 stanzas that changed over once per hour, meaning that the entire poem was visible over a duration of 33 hours.
"Reflections of the Living Light" is the phrase used by the 12th-century nun and mystic Hildegard von Bingen to describe the intense spiritual visions that she experienced for much of her life. She wrote down these visions and their accompanying interpretations at the age of 43 in her book Scivias, overriding edicts on female silence and submission by writing in the voice of God. This is the most striking part to me about the experience of reading Scivias—the way that Hildegard manifests confidence in her work and her vision by cultivating a relationship with God that is so close that their voices merge, and through her writing she becomes a conduit for the most magnificent creative force.
I first became familiar with Hildegard about a decade ago through her music, which I was listening to while I wrote. For a long time I knew her only as a composer—she remains one of the most-recorded composers of sacred monophony in history—and only later learned that she was also a renowned scholar of natural science and author of an extensive medical encyclopedia, she had written the first morality play a century before the form became popular, she invented her own language, and she spent decades as an abbess who founded multiple successful monasteries, one of which is still operating almost a thousand years later.
And yet! Hildegard is still probably most well-known for the visions she recorded in Scivias, from which I have pulled some of the text for my Word Shelter project. When I was reading Hildegard's visions I was surprised by how close some of the language felt to images and phrases that had come to me over the years while I was meditating, which has become an integral part of my writing practice, and also the poignancy of her struggle between self-doubt and faith. The way she writes about her life's work feels so contemporary—and, to get contemporary about it, so "relatable"—that I found a sense of real companionship in Scivias, and I was thrilled to share our visions in tandem in "Reflections of the Living Light."
The full text of the poem is below, along with an example of what the Vestaboard layouts looked like—I was excited to use the option of colored blocks within the text, which felt reminiscent of the illuminated text in Scivias.
All the pavement
of the building
appeared like white
glass, which shone
with a calm
splendor
As a hyacinth
illumines any object
on which is it put
down
My mind is
a clear glass bowl
on a wooden floor
with sunlight in it
Into which
the white globe
from time to time
poured itself out
and emitted its
brightness
Shining
pure and clear
in its candor
and
mirror-like
simplicity
Trust
the
emptiness
Great in its mysteries
and pure
in its manifestations
A living fragrance
vowing the way
to secret
regeneration
Sweeping loose papers
with a
pushbroom in the rooms
and hallways
of my mind
For she lived wholly
in wisdom: she wore
a shadowy garment
through which the eyes
could look out
Above her right
shoulder hovered
a dove of exceeding
whiteness, breathing
into her right ear
What color
is the smoke in your
body? Exhale it
into the gold orb
on your chest
For she is
often assailed
in her mysteries
by ravening wolves
And she is protected
by white shoes:
for she shines
brightly
in human minds
In
spirit
They do not walk
in my ways,
but love strange paths
Let the one who
has ears sharp to hear
inner meanings
ardently love my
reflection and pant
after my words
Every thought
a
note stuck
to the outside
of the clear sphere
I am sitting inside of
For
they will know it
only on the outside,
as in a dream
You are nonetheless
touched by my light
The yellow
lozenge
of
concentration
A crown on her head,
with this inscription
carved on the right
side:
“Always burn!”
Though you are ashes,
I will that you speak
My light was
a cold blue prism
shining dimly
through dead leaves
Oh, what am I?
And
What is the theme
of my outcry?
When this was done,
a
luminous splendor
surrounded the region,
and all the elements
of the world
The oblong glow
inside of me
is the same as
the oblong glow
inside of
everyone else
And it is
wondrous,
secret,
and supremely strong
And again I answered
from the
inner knowledge
of the vision
Every moment
to a river stone
is new
and the same
The will
like its flowers
the mind
like its bursting
firstfruits
O sweet life
My mind will also
sit down
