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, 1 August 2014

(recycled) lughnasadh poem, & suggestion

Poem for today, Lughnasadh/Lammas; Celtic fire festival and harvest-time. Recycled, I'm afraid, as I've been so taken up with the new course about which I posted yesterday, and also planting a little more salad and beets in the rain (joy! Jubilation! Bring it on!).

But first, here's a thing: I've decided to write a 100-word prose poem, incorporating outer and inner worlds, each day for the next year (we'll see how long I keep that up). Join me? Maybe just for the month of August? If you have any you're pleased with, send them over for the blog...

Lughnasadh poem

Even in rain the flames burn bright.
On the hill, the barley is dancing.

Heart, make your first harvest:
extend your arms like rays of the sun

to gather in all whom you love
and all too who feel themselves unloved:

the broken, the lost, the abused –
shadow-dancers all. Gather them in –

give them all bread. Give them
cause for laughter, for love.

 © Roselle Angwin, 1 August 2012

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