{"id":301436,"date":"1984-01-01T00:00:13","date_gmt":"1983-12-31T23:00:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.vanoorschot.nl\/dbnl\/theo-de-jonggedichten\/"},"modified":"2021-06-04T15:05:53","modified_gmt":"2021-06-04T14:05:53","slug":"theo-de-jonggedichten","status":"publish","type":"dbnl","link":"https:\/\/www.vanoorschot.nl\/en\/dbnl\/theo-de-jonggedichten\/","title":{"rendered":"Theo de Jong\r\n\r\nGedichten"},"content":{"rendered":"
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[p. 113]<\/div>\r\n<\/a>\r\n

\r\nTheo de Jong<\/i>\r\n\r\n
\r\nGedichten<\/h3>\r\n\r\n

Het land van herkomst<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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Het land van herkomst onherkenbaar<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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warm. Wachten, zweten, identiteit<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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in de hand. Nieuwe kleren, nieuwe<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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kleuren, dezelfde uniformen, dezelfde<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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vragen. Pas gewassen lachjes, gesteven<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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stemmen, elkaar dringen opdringen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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en de geur van geurloosheid, oud zeer<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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van de taal van mijn leven.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Gaan brengt terug gaan met zich mee.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Ik keer tot de herinnering weer.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
[p. 114]<\/div>\r\n

Zwart gat<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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De koplampen riepen de weg op,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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regen wiste de voorruit uit.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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We moesten praten, te schor<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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en beschonken om stilte te zien<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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door het gordijn van donker waar<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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we in gewikkeld waren. Thuis<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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tuimelden we duizelig in bed,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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alle lampen aan om wat er was<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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te verlichten. Adem klom zigzag<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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zoekend naar de schreeuw van bevrijding<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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en de vrije val in het zwarte gat<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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van verzwijgen.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n\r\n
[p. 115]<\/div>\r\n

Gemist<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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Ze sturen hun schreeuwen vooruit<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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de tunnel door. De trein vertrekt.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Boven gekomen vloeken zij zo hard<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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mogelijk om toch nog iets of iemand<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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te bereiken, ze benen heen en weer<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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als tijgers tegen etenstijd, hun stem<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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een klauw die rondtast buiten de kooi<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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van wat zij zijn: jongens nog, en al<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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jongens die het niet hebben gehaald.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Men drentelt bij hen vandaan.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n\r\n
[p. 116]<\/div>\r\n

Winter ’81<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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Een kop met sneeuw boog de coniferen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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om tot een rij rouwende vrouwen.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Ze zei, verbeeldingskracht uit eigen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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verse vrijheid geperst: Dat zijn de Polen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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en een week lang zag ik hen staan,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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beelden die zich in dooi verdiepten.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n\r\n
[p. 117]<\/div>\r\n

Opgroeien<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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Jongens schreeuwen zich uit school,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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kerven letters, hart en pijl in bast,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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bord dat ander schrift voorschrijft.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Uitdagend, nog klein in al groot zijn,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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geven zij elkaar vuur van stem, stoten<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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de rook van hun dromen uit, tot zij<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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die letters was lijfelijk verschijnt.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Hun stemmen doven en ze drentelen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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kinderlijk grinnikend weg.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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De beuk begint aan jaren<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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hun schrijven dichten.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>
\n

Over dit hoofdstuk\/artikel<\/h3>\n

Theo de Jong<\/a><\/p>\n
\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[p. 113] Theo de Jong Gedichten Het land van herkomst \u00a0 Het land van herkomst onherkenbaar \u00a0 warm. Wachten, zweten, identiteit \u00a0 in de hand. Nieuwe kleren, nieuwe \u00a0 kleuren, dezelfde uniformen, dezelfde \u00a0 vragen. Pas gewassen lachjes, gesteven \u00a0 stemmen, elkaar dringen opdringen \u00a0 en de geur van geurloosheid, oud zeer \u00a0 van de… Lees verder <\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","class_list":["post-301436","dbnl","type-dbnl","status-publish","hentry"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nTheo de Jong Gedichten · Uitgeverij Van Oorschot<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.vanoorschot.nl\/en\/dbnl\/theo-de-jonggedichten\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Theo de Jong Gedichten · Uitgeverij Van Oorschot\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"[p. 113] Theo de Jong Gedichten Het land van herkomst \u00a0 Het land van herkomst onherkenbaar \u00a0 warm. Wachten, zweten, identiteit \u00a0 in de hand. Nieuwe kleren, nieuwe \u00a0 kleuren, dezelfde uniformen, dezelfde \u00a0 vragen. Pas gewassen lachjes, gesteven \u00a0 stemmen, elkaar dringen opdringen \u00a0 en de geur van geurloosheid, oud zeer \u00a0 van de... 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