We met as Sparks—Diverging Flints
Sent various—scattered ways—
We parted as the Central Flint
Were cloven with an Adze—
Subsisting on the Light We bore
Before We felt the Dark—
A Flint unto this Day—perhaps—
But for that single Spark.
-F918, J958, sheet 11, 1865
Flint is a very hard dark quartz that produces sparks when it is struck.
So here you are, resting in your flinty flintness, in your “quartz contentment," when love strikes! It comes down like an adze and creates sparks. This is an image that is violent, but brilliant, like a lover’s passion.
This violent blow of the blade is how you “meet.”
We met as Sparks—Diverging Flints.
I often want to just write “Wow!" in reference to a powerful line or idea in Dickinson, but I rarely do. Why?
This duality can also be seen in that word “cloven.” "Cleave" is a classic contranym. Cleave can mean to cleave apart, which it primarily does here, but it can also mean to cleave together.
I love the rhyme of “Adze” with “Ways.” Following “sparks”, “flints”, “sent”, “scattered”and “Central,” these end rhymes create a soft susurration, a feeling, in this poem, of longing. Then the next line begins the triple S in the word "Subsisting."
Subsisting on the Light We bore
Before We felt the Dark—
There is much to meditate upon in these lines. "Subsisting on the Light We bore." The light is the love we feel for one another. It feeds and nourishes us.
In our minds we see an image in this poem of two sparks that are coming off of the central flint. Their moment of parting is brilliant, but swift. We’ve all seen sparks rising into the sky, fading out into the dark. It happens quick. Death, or loss, is what the spark fades into.
The rhythm of these two lines is worth noting. The iambic tetrameter enjambs into the following line of trimeter, creating seven quick iambs in a row. This ramping up effect is heightened by the internal rhyme of “we bore” with “Before.” This all sets us up for the pause in the next line:
A Flint unto this Day—perhaps—
Was it so great to fall in love? Would it have been better to stay in the “quartz contentment," in the oneness and hardness of the dark flint?
The “perhaps,” set off there between dashes, has a lot riding on it. Perhaps it would’ve been better to just be in the non-dual contentment of that central flint, but then again, we would never have gotten fire.
But for that single Spark.
The diverging sparks at the beginning of this poem have, by the end of the poem, reverted back to their single state. This is the state of fire. One spark creates another. The original spark, I suppose, is the force behind that falling adze, its wielder's desire for fire.
-/)dam Wade l)eGraff
P.S. But where did that original desire come from? I recently read a first century BC poem by the Greek poet Meleager that wondered the same thing:
What I cannot see is how,
From the green wave rising,
Out of water, Oh Aphrodite,
You bred a flame.
P.P.S. Another curious thing about the form of this poem is that the stanzas are NOT split in two. Perhaps it is to emphasize the "single Spark" with which the poem ends.
Sent various—scattered ways—
We parted as the Central Flint
Were cloven with an Adze—
Subsisting on the Light We bore
Before We felt the Dark—
A Flint unto this Day—perhaps—
But for that single Spark.
-F918, J958, sheet 11, 1865
Flint is a very hard dark quartz that produces sparks when it is struck.
flint
So here you are, resting in your flinty flintness, in your “quartz contentment," when love strikes! It comes down like an adze and creates sparks. This is an image that is violent, but brilliant, like a lover’s passion.
This violent blow of the blade is how you “meet.”
We met as Sparks—Diverging Flints.
I often want to just write “Wow!" in reference to a powerful line or idea in Dickinson, but I rarely do. Why?
Here I will, because this is such a viscerally powerful way of describing love.
Dickinson’s spark creates a spark in us. That’s what great poets do. They wow us. They set us on fire. They disturb our “quartz contentment.”
Sent various—scattered ways—
This line mainly gets across the idea that the initial sparks go off in the sky, scattered apart. But I want to stay with this line for a minute and imagine what some of those various and scattered ways might be? The mind reels at how various and scattered we really are.
We parted as the Central Flint
Were cloven with an Adze—
Sent various—scattered ways—
This line mainly gets across the idea that the initial sparks go off in the sky, scattered apart. But I want to stay with this line for a minute and imagine what some of those various and scattered ways might be? The mind reels at how various and scattered we really are.
We parted as the Central Flint
Were cloven with an Adze—
An adze is an ancient cutting tool similar to an axe but with the cutting edge perpendicular to the handle rather than parallel. We parted as (if) the central Flint/ Were cloven with an Adze. The sparks are created by the adze striking the flint.
Things get poetic here because the same thing that creates the spark, the adze, also creates separation. The sparks part from the flint as soon as the adze strikes. The idea is that love and longing come as a package deal.
This duality can also be seen in that word “cloven.” "Cleave" is a classic contranym. Cleave can mean to cleave apart, which it primarily does here, but it can also mean to cleave together.
I love the rhyme of “Adze” with “Ways.” Following “sparks”, “flints”, “sent”, “scattered”and “Central,” these end rhymes create a soft susurration, a feeling, in this poem, of longing. Then the next line begins the triple S in the word "Subsisting."
Subsisting on the Light We bore
Before We felt the Dark—
There is much to meditate upon in these lines. "Subsisting on the Light We bore." The light is the love we feel for one another. It feeds and nourishes us.
In our minds we see an image in this poem of two sparks that are coming off of the central flint. Their moment of parting is brilliant, but swift. We’ve all seen sparks rising into the sky, fading out into the dark. It happens quick. Death, or loss, is what the spark fades into.
The rhythm of these two lines is worth noting. The iambic tetrameter enjambs into the following line of trimeter, creating seven quick iambs in a row. This ramping up effect is heightened by the internal rhyme of “we bore” with “Before.” This all sets us up for the pause in the next line:
A Flint unto this Day—perhaps—
Was it so great to fall in love? Would it have been better to stay in the “quartz contentment," in the oneness and hardness of the dark flint?
The “perhaps,” set off there between dashes, has a lot riding on it. Perhaps it would’ve been better to just be in the non-dual contentment of that central flint, but then again, we would never have gotten fire.
But for that single Spark.
The diverging sparks at the beginning of this poem have, by the end of the poem, reverted back to their single state. This is the state of fire. One spark creates another. The original spark, I suppose, is the force behind that falling adze, its wielder's desire for fire.
-/)dam Wade l)eGraff
P.S. But where did that original desire come from? I recently read a first century BC poem by the Greek poet Meleager that wondered the same thing:
What I cannot see is how,
From the green wave rising,
Out of water, Oh Aphrodite,
You bred a flame.
P.P.S. Another curious thing about the form of this poem is that the stanzas are NOT split in two. Perhaps it is to emphasize the "single Spark" with which the poem ends.
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