We Come From The Same Light

By Danielle Fournier

To read Danielle Fournier is to plunge into the centre of a woman’s heart and body – a heart that continues to beat, to search and to hope spurred on by a sensual, desirable – and desiring – body. Not only physical and emotional, Fournier’s pursuits are also geographical and linguistic as she travels across continents and languages encountering bleak landscapes brightened by desire and feminine kinship. Despite the journey’s internal ruptures and emotional turmoil, we reach joy and the conclusion that We come from the same light. {Guernica}

• Language: English
• Publisher: Guernica
• Release date: Jan 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9781550715965

Danielle Fournier

Danielle Fournier has published more than a dozen books and contributed to numerous reviews and magazines in Quebec and abroad. A full-time writer and editor of Éditions de l’Hexagone, she has received many distinctions including the 2010 General Governor’s Award.

Book preview

DANIELLE FOURNIER

WE COME FROM THE SAME LIGHT

 ESSENTIAL POETS SERIES 188

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY CHRISTINE TIPPER

GUERNICA

Toronto – Buffalo – Lancaster (U.K.)

2011  

CONTENTS

                               We can’t live without each other 

                                     None other than love 

                                       Eternal language 

                                   Heavy seas with night sounds 

                                   In the rock the wind’s wound 

                                    Montreal is a woman’s skin 

                                    That your eyes should rest 

                                         Touched by light 

WE CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT EACH OTHER

From here to over there, the long road, for hours on 

end, from here to over there, outside of oneself, out- 

side of walls, is it an opportunity?

The synthetic thought

the phrase that speaks to me to tell you 

the synthetic thought

and on the shore an enormous larch.

To wait for me

to wait somewhere for me.

For me time has all the importance of exile and it is 

only between your thighs that I find myself, me, too 

often lost. Exiles, a proper noun, animated, hidden 

there, lose themselves wildly, sex and shaft, the same 

origin.

I am a foreigner

it’s written on my face and in my body. 

Everywhere I’m not from here.

No, I regret nothing. I’m nothing, no, nothing more; a 

woman who knows from a man how to climax during 

love, climax from love; no, I don’t exist, I don’t cry, I