from BARDO

The stars are in our belly; the Milky Way our umbilicus.

Is it a consolation that the stuff of which we’re made

is star-stuff too?


– That wherever you go you can never fully disappear –

dispersal only: carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen.


Tree, rain, coal, glow-worm, horse, gnat, rock.


Roselle Angwin

Thursday, 24 July 2014

july


Only this moment. Storms threaten and do not arrive. Behind my eyelids lightning drags its nails down the sky. The absence of thunder is today my teacher. The young buzzards practise sopranino voices. When the beakfull magpie came in earlier she had a whole grass snake coiled across her back under her wings and around her tail. Stab stab stab in the east-wind glittery light. Last night in the tunnel of dusk right above my head two tawny owls played tag in the oak branches. Lower, by the brook, a pair of mateless snipe drummed to each other, one a semi-tone higher than the other. Where I stand, beneath my gritty bare feet a whole invisible arterial network coils and uncoils, exchanging light and dark and earth and rainfall, death and birth overlapping and interpenetrating without end, without interruption or interrogation, without despair. I think the air too is full of arterial coilings. And I like everything am the fulcrum of this moment’s watching itself before dissolution into a past that never was and a future that never will be.

©Roselle Angwin