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

Friday, 11 March 2011

among the disappearing stars

Lots to say in response to Prof Brian Cox's programme about human and stellar time the other night. I'm sure I shall, when I've formulated something coherent in prose or poetry or both. But not now – instead here's a poem by Robert Bly.

Bly has been a favourite of mine for a long time. I come back to him over and over (currently reading his book of collected short essays on reading and writing poetry: Talking All Morning). Here's someone who knows how to keep heart and soul alive.

I haven't read his 2009 collection Turkish Pears in August, but while looking for something else I came across this little poem from it online. It makes me smile.

Orion The Great Walker

Orion, that old hunter, floats among the stars
Firmly... the farms beneath his feet. How long
It takes for me to walk in grief like him.
Seventy years old, and still placing my feet
So hopefully each night on the ground.
How long it takes for me to agree to sorrow.
But that great walker follows his dogs,
Hunting all night among the disappearing stars.

Robert Bly

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