Marie-Élaine Guay offers two visions of motherhood. After Castanets (Del Busso, 2018), here she questions the mother’s “function” in two parts, namely exclusive love and horrible contingent fatigue. Doesn’t she baptize the newborn thus: “I name you / accomplice of suffering”? When joy rules: “I repeat it to you / loving you is a work / which dances blue in my wings”. And in the dark, she is aware that “squatting down, she returns her blood and sweat to the earth with words to say lose. To say empty. To say stop. She never had the freedom to choose. Covered by anxiety, these two paths necessarily outline a state of lucidity that the poetry accentuates or attenuates according to the author’s ability to write in dotted lines, to discreetly bring to light the images of this disturbing and imposed love. Be that as it may, she concludes: “I no longer know how to write / anything other than help. This is indeed a drama impossible to counter.
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