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.
Saturday, 21 May 2016
at the back door
this cleft rock –
home to moss and horse shit
The way earth holds death and life together in her belly, makes no judgement. We feel all the time we need to choose, to decide, to 'move forward', to achieve. How would it be if we could simply dwell in the cycles of it all?
constant chatter of drops
this leaky gutter
Outside, blackbird song. Spring doing her thing without our help; each year clothing this cherry with flakes of sunlight.
The larch tree is full of herself again, has emerged with Persephone to give us another summer of her greenness
in the rocky bank
fumbles at the wrong hole
and all the while a soft rain seduces earth's skin to open
it will break you apart
until, stumbling, you find yourself at the foot of the right mountain at exactly the right moment, ready to begin again.
© Roselle Angwin 2016
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