{"id":302964,"date":"1997-01-01T00:00:33","date_gmt":"1996-12-31T23:00:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.vanoorschot.nl\/dbnl\/margreet-schouwenaargedichten\/"},"modified":"2021-06-04T18:13:26","modified_gmt":"2021-06-04T17:13:26","slug":"margreet-schouwenaargedichten","status":"publish","type":"dbnl","link":"https:\/\/www.vanoorschot.nl\/en\/dbnl\/margreet-schouwenaargedichten\/","title":{"rendered":"Margreet Schouwenaar\r\nGedichten"},"content":{"rendered":"
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[p. 263]<\/div>\r\n <\/interp><\/a>\r\n

\r\nMargreet Schouwenaar<\/i>\r\n
\r\nGedichten<\/h3>\r\n\r\n
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Zegening<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Zuchten trok haar lippen scheef<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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zodat het zere groef bleef waar<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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het volmondige haar achterwege liet.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Vrouw die vleugels schiep aan wat een prijs had;<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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drie ons pijn, een pond verlies, de vergeten<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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boodschap die zoals verwacht in de tas<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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van anderen zat.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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O wat zij verloor,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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hoe beet het van haar af.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Haar vermenigvuldigbaar gemis maakte<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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ranzig gewag van snerpend geschrap.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Pan waar het vet lepeldiep lag. Blik<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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die van honger scherp was. De mond. Die lach.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Dat leed. Zeer dat door aard noch lucht<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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sleet. Dat van bodem slechts de put weet.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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De echo opgewacht, het prijsgegeven woord<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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dat met terugwerkende kracht past.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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En meet.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Vrouw die veren optast. De hoop<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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die daaronder lag. Eens het hoofd gekapt,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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eens een bontgekraagde winterjas.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Eens haar beurs op de naad gekapt.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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De bult op haar schouders bewees dat nijverheid<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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loont. Gaf zwaarte aan wat haar node was. Viel<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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zinvol uit toen zij steeg. Licht en ietwat scheef.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
[p. 264]<\/div>\r\n
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Tentoon<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Ze heeft zich in een doek doen keren,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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gekleed in haar allermooiste zij.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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Haar ogen vol zondaglicht, haar huid<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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tentoon in het teder barsten<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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van ferme vegen. Als klei.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Ik kom mij in haar tegen, zodat<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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ik denk, nee zeker lijk te weten<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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waarvoor ruimte is gemaakt. Tijd<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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die zich voordoet in de welving<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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van een voet.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Haar ogen volgen mij. Of ik blijf.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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De ruimte staat wijd. Er is een bank.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Ga zitten. Kijk! Weer een uur verslagen.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Haar glimlach. Dat het later wordt.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Het is goed. Waar ook.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Op deze plaats is zij bereik.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Niet omdat naar alle kanten open<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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de ochtend laait, buiten het gerucht<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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zich tussen de voetgangers op stilte verlaat,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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het carillon voortgang verraadt.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Maar om het hulpeloze. Haar ogen groot.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Te zeer. Te droog.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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En kijk. Vastgezet sta ik met<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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een ongeweten schuld. De tijd<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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afgelegd. Sta ik. Tot de voorslag.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Haar portret.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
[p. 265]<\/div>\r\n
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Uit<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Aan de ingang staat geen man.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Ook binnen wordt niet met pincet bediend.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Stof is over de tafels gegaan.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Het mager licht slaat gezichten op.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Ik ben binnen vandaag. Ik kan<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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met gesloten ogen mijn tegenliggers<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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bezien; het oud meubilair en de zwerm<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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stemmen. De klok.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Het is stil, hoewel verwachtingen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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opeengepakt staan, bedoelingen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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razen, maar met de rug naar hier.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Hier slaat men noden op in<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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het kelderdonker. Noden en neigingen.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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En uit het luid gelispel steken<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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handen taal. Klinken. Beloven<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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boeldag met gesloten deuren, dichte<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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beurzen. Slechts oversteken.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Gelijken<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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gaan elkaar tegemoet: dit is reusachtig.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Het toeval! Dat wij elkaar moesten treffen.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Aan de kant staan de enkelen wachtend<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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op een hand.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>
[p. 266]<\/div>
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De ruimte is oneindig. Met een enkel baken.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Lichtend als een zebrapad. Wat zijn<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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hun plaatsen klaar. Draagbaar. Zij volgen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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me door de nacht.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Tot aan mijn deur.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
[p. 267]<\/div>\r\n
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De straten breken<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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door de stad in liefste plekken.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Om een kantlijn te scheppen, een verte<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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die zich wegschrijft langs de smalle gang<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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van onthulling en aanvang.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Men heeft een hier bereid<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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tot vertrekken.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Een uitweg<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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ter grootte van een besef.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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En het is waar: waar men blijft is men<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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opgezadeld voor een menselijk gewicht,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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een ik, maar niet volkomen. Meer<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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regelmaat, logica en dit<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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vertrek,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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waar lege dozen, voorjaarsluchten,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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traag wandelende paren, fonteinen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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torsend fruit en schalen. Engelen.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Dat is waar. De plaats. Waar.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Maar wat kan men doen met klinkers laf<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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als een portiek waar scheef geschroefd<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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de namen post betwisten.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Men huurt zich in om toe te zien.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>
[p. 268]<\/div>
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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Deze straat? Deze weg? Ach, dit huis!<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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Aan alle kanten opent steeds dezelfde<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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deur.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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Men moet voorzichtig zijn. Het afscheid<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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aan de ketting laten. Van een plaats<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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een uitzicht schillen. Een uitvalsplaats.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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Een doorgangshuis. Een klok.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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Huis.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>
\n

Over het gehele werk<\/h3>\n

Tirade<\/a><\/p>\n

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

Margreet Schouwenaar<\/a><\/p>\n
\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[p. 263] Margreet Schouwenaar Gedichten Zegening \u00a0 Zuchten trok haar lippen scheef \u00a0 zodat het zere groef bleef waar \u00a0 het volmondige haar achterwege liet. \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Vrouw die vleugels schiep aan wat een prijs had; \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 drie ons pijn, een pond verlies, de vergeten \u00a0 boodschap die zoals verwacht in de… Lees verder <\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","class_list":["post-302964","dbnl","type-dbnl","status-publish","hentry"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nMargreet Schouwenaar 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\/margreet-schouwenaargedichten\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Margreet Schouwenaar Gedichten · Uitgeverij Van Oorschot\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"[p. 263] Margreet Schouwenaar Gedichten Zegening \u00a0 Zuchten trok haar lippen scheef \u00a0 zodat het zere groef bleef waar \u00a0 het volmondige haar achterwege liet. \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Vrouw die vleugels schiep aan wat een prijs had; \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 drie ons pijn, een pond verlies, de vergeten \u00a0 boodschap die zoals verwacht in de... 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