Anna Wickham’s speaker begins in a dark place, convinced that fear has drained all pleasure from the world. Then she remembers language—not just words but her own skill with them—and that memory gives her courage. The mood shifts from numb defeat to something lively and defiant. She imagines making words dance, clapping hands, shaking feet, and decides to stop rejecting things because of their origins or associations. Why scorn a word for its genealogy, or an ordinary bus in favor of a ship? She even says she has courage to despise form, as if rules and categories were part of the fear. Pleasure returns when she lets herself use what is actually there and put herself and everything she sees onto the page. It feels like a small, stubborn celebration of creativity, attention, and the everyday.
Return of Pleasure — Summary
I THOUGHT there was no pleasure in the world Because of my fears.
Then I remembered life and all the words in my language. And I had courage even to despise form. I thought, " I have skill to make words dance. To clap hands and to shake feet, But I will put myself, and everything I see, upon the page. Why should I reject words because of their genealogy? Or things, because of their association? Why should I scorn a bus rather than a ship? "