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.
Friday, 6 June 2014
'against the ice' (poem)
Contra el agua, diás de fuego (Octavio Paz)
There are mornings when you wonder
how anything ever turns out right -
when we’re all refugees trudging scorched soil
without hope; without anything;
yet in the face of all odds
snowdrops still break iceblack soil
swollen plums blush in the August sun
despite pollution, genetics and sprays
and there are insects who still know
what pollen to merge with which.
Then there are evenings when out of the stillness
a huge wind rises to stride through the leaves
and sets fat drops of rain glistening
like fairy-lights amongst the mulberries;
And times when the voice of a blackbird
breaks you open
and you go out into everything, your heart
on fire like a sunflower in a landscape
that ripples with song, with something
that cannot be suppressed.
© Roselle Angwin (first published in Looking For Icarus, bluechrome 2005)
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