by Raymond Carver
So early it’s still almost dark out.
I’m near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.
When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.
They wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
They are so happy
they aren’t saying anything, these boys.
I think if they could, they would take
each other’s arm.
It’s early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.
They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.
Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn’t enter into this.
Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.
———————————————————————————————————
Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.
I have been interested in words and how our words lead to our experiences. Here Raymond Carver doubts the function of words when considering how to share the feeling of happiness. This makes me consider whether words can live outside our emotions. From this I think that Iif we let ourselves separate our words from our emotions (knowingly) then perhaps we can somehow honor our emotions. Carter throws away the idea that naming is an important part of understanding our own emotions for their nuances and complexities.
Lights in the Hand 
