{"id":304039,"date":"2005-01-01T00:00:57","date_gmt":"2004-12-31T23:00:57","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.vanoorschot.nl\/dbnl\/l-f-rosengedichten-3\/"},"modified":"2021-06-04T18:41:13","modified_gmt":"2021-06-04T17:41:13","slug":"l-f-rosengedichten-3","status":"publish","type":"dbnl","link":"https:\/\/www.vanoorschot.nl\/en\/dbnl\/l-f-rosengedichten-3\/","title":{"rendered":"L.F. Rosen\r\n\r\nGedichten"},"content":{"rendered":"
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[p. 100]<\/div>\r\n<\/a>\r\n

\r\nL.F. Rosen<\/i>\r\n\r\n
\r\nGedichten<\/h3>\r\n\r\n

Theems, Taag, Merwede<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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Er moet een rivier zijn in ons<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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leven wil het volwaardig heten.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Een grijsgroene slang<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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van water die kronkelend<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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je leven binnendringt –<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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en een moeder die jou er in<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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een wandelwagentje zwijgend naar<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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toe duwt. Hoe eerder hoe beter.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Waar het leven, het grote<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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staren, ook begint:<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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geen water, geen kind.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
[p. 101]<\/div>\r\n

Hoekig licht<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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Tastend naar de natte binnenkanten<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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van het vlees, op het hoogtepunt<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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van de ontmoeting, deinzen handen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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soms even terug voor een vreemd<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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licht dat de botten uittekent<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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als in een Javaans schimmenspel,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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en zacht laat gloeien<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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waar het skelet bijna<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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door het vel heen drukt.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Een even exotisch als hoekig licht<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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dat in onze hoofden rond blijft<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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spoken. Tot het helder wordt:<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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iemand moet het in een vlaag<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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van koppigheid hier hebben<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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aangestoken.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n\r\n
[p. 102]<\/div>\r\n

Omkijkend zie ik enkel as en lijken<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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Op oude filmbeelden zien we zelden<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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vogels zenuwachtig worden<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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van het vallen van de avond.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Hekwerken zien we, de vuist<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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van de voorzitter op tafel, zijn zwarte<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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limousine die met zijn haaientanden<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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naar de menigte hapt, zelden<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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het vrouwtje met de boodschappentas<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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dat haar handen voor haar mond slaat<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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omdat zij haar doodgewaande zoon<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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meent te zien achter pantserglas.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Nooit dat moment van verwarring<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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als van vogels op een voederplaats<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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onder snel donker wordende bomen.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Toch moeten zij er zijn geweest –<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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op de veel te grote pleinen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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van het volk – nerveuze vrouwen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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met voedsel op zoek naar hun zonen.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n\r\n
[p. 103]<\/div>\r\n

Eerste woorden<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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Ik had zojuist een jong dier<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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gegeten en mijn zoveelste paard<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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op de wand van de grot geschilderd<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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– niet mooier dan anders, anders –<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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toen plots een klein maar onkalm<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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vuur langs de nachtelijke hemel schoot.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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De resten van een ge\u00ebxplodeerde ster,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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weet ik nu, duizenden jaren later.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Mijn handen jeukten om<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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dit fabelteken, deze lans<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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van vuur, op de wanden<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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van de grot te schilderen.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Bedwong ze evenwel<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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en schraapte mijn keel.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Toen daaruit een geluid<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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ontsnapte dat minder kleiachtig<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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leek dan het oude gekreun<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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van angst, honger en pijn.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Eerst nog schuchter<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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zoals een welp kruipt<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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uit zijn winterhol en schrikt<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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van de koude buitenlucht.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>
[p. 104]<\/div>
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Maar allengs brutaler,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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overtuigd van eigen spierkracht,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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bokte het als een veulen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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en sloeg met zijn hoeven<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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vonken uit mijn hoofd.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Zo verscheen in ons midden,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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onherroepelijker dan ooit<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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in verf, wat ik zojuist had<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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gezegd: paard… paardvuur.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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En kwam het woord in ons leven,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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kwam ik, kwamen wij, rodeorijdend<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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op de staart van een ster, in een<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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sprakeloos makende wereld terecht.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>
\n

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

L.F. Rosen<\/a><\/p>\n
\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[p. 100] L.F. Rosen Gedichten Theems, Taag, Merwede \u00a0 Er moet een rivier zijn in ons \u00a0 leven wil het volwaardig heten. \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Een grijsgroene slang \u00a0 van water die kronkelend \u00a0 je leven binnendringt – \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 en een moeder die jou er in \u00a0 een wandelwagentje zwijgend naar \u00a0 toe… Lees verder <\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","class_list":["post-304039","dbnl","type-dbnl","status-publish","hentry"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nL.F. Rosen 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\/l-f-rosengedichten-3\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"L.F. 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