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.
Wednesday, 31 October 2012
Butterfly at Samhain (poem)
I found at the very bottom of the store
two black butterflies, alive and tight-clinging
in the darkness, for their winter rest
Last year, driving my dad back across the November moor
after my mum had died, there were voices
in the car, high celestial singing that both of us
heard with an inner ear, and I knew then
that the ancestors live so close, awaiting our notice;
and today with the veil between worlds
this slender, as I feed the robin I think
how it is my mum is so present I could almost
reach out and take her white hands that stayed
so much softer, always, than mine. Some people
think of the soul as a butterfly; and now
I think that with all the pain in the world
and the losses we sustain, still the heart's
small candle burns in the darkest places
and the soul has its own resilience.
© Roselle Angwin October 31st 2012
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- Butterfly at Samhain (poem)
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