The painting and poem for this month, are mushrooms, they seems such an easy subect however they are a symbol.
“The Mushroom” by Sylvia Plath is a mesmerizing journey into the labyrinthine depths of femininity, where the delicate yet resilient essence of womanhood blooms amidst the shadows of societal expectations. Like the eponymous fungus, women are depicted as quietly burgeoning beneath the surface, their voices often muted, their existence confined to the margins. Plath’s poetic brush strokes evoke a haunting reflection not only of yesteryears’ struggles but also resonate profoundly with the zeitgeist of today. In the tendrils of her verse, we find echoes of contemporary challenges faced by women, inviting introspection into the enduring relevance of gender dynamics in our ever-evolving world. Through the prism of “The Mushroom,” Plath beckons us to ponder the profound, perennial essence of the feminine experience, urging us to unravel its layers with both reverence and curiosity.
Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly
Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.
Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.
Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,
Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,
Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We
Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking
Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!
We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,
Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:
We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot’s in the door.
