Det finns många anledningar till att Spricka förlag heter just “Spricka” förlag. Några antydningar anges på sidan Om oss. En av dessa anledningar skymtar fram i en dikt (som jag citerar där) av Dave Bookless – teolog och ledare för den kristna naturvårdsrörelsen A Rocha. Här återges hela dikten, en tankeväckande dikt som kan sägas handla om sprickan som en utsikt.
There are cracks in my world
I noticed them one day and now they are everywhere
Sinister hairline cracks that start and finish out of sight
Cracks that grow and gape and laugh at my certainties
My world has been declared unsafe
I have tried to paper them over
Paint them out
Move the furniture to hide them
– but they always return –
cracks that hang like question-marks in my mind
and now I begin to think
why do the cracks appear?
From where do they come?
They have made my room unsafe
They have thrown it open to new horizons
Drawn back curtains
Raised long-closed shutters.
One day I looked and a crack had become a window.
Step through it said, what have you to fear?
Do you wish to stay in your crumbling room?
And then I remembered a childhood dream,
Watching the egg of some exotic bird,
Oval and perfect, spotted blue and cream
(I wished to hold that egg and keep it on a shelf)
As I watched it cracks appeared,
Tiny fissures spread like zigzag ripples.
It broke in two and life struggled to its feet,
Wet and weak and blinking at the world.
Without those cracks that egg could hold
no more than rotting stagnant death.
Without its cracks my world would be
a room without a view.
cracks may be uncomfortable, disturbing gaps
Could it be I need them?
Do you believe in cracks?
Because I keep looking for God in the room
And find he is hiding in the cracks.
1990, Bristol © Dave Bookless