My friend, Trish, does abstract art. Sometimes I see things in her work that aren't, in her mind, there.
Art is like that.
The first time I read Mad Girl's Love Song, probably in the 60s, it said things to me that Plath wasn't necessarily saying to the world. A few days ago someone put the poem on Facebook, relating to our current situation.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. (I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red, And arbitrary blackness gallops in: I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
Plath's speaker is dealing with themes of mental illness, love and the power of imagination. She's both euphoric and despairing.
Bingo!
I am a life long insomniac. But now, due to meds and lifestyle I, for the most part, sleep well and have good dreams. Hence, I love the phrase "I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead."
God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade: Exit seraphim and Satan's men: I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you'd return the way you said, But I grow old and forget your name. (I think I made you up inside my head.)
Yes, I feel that way about a special someone, but I feel heartache about so very many loved ones, alive and dead. Again, I'm grateful that I can close my eyes at night and have sweat dreams.
I should have loved a thunderbird instead; At least when spring comes they roar back again, I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. (I think I made you up inside my head.)
