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

Wednesday, 20 April 2011

(poem) how hard it is to speak of happiness


when paradise comes in its
long brief moment
you have no words for it
save those givens, labels
from the senses: so
this April sun, the surround of birdsong
(lark tit swallow cuckoo finch)
a light southeasterly in this
setting-sail blue day, the tors sharp
and the path lined
with gorse, bluebell, stitchwort
and the wagtail skipping
from the rock near yours in this
clear furrowed peatygold water of
the moorland brook
the dog lazing beside you
and the little old mare
come through another winter
and you (mother daughter friend
sister lover beloved)
with some hours
to linger to wander to dream

and the earth still turning

- Roselle Angwin

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