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.
Monday, 30 March 2020
this time, any time – poem by Jenna Plewes
One of our would-have-been participants, on the first, 'Core', group, Jenna, sent me this poem. I reproduce it here with her permission and my thanks to her.
Love will be our bedrock
We are separate, but we all stand
on the same patient, greening earth.
All around us life is busy, a song thrush
practises its three small phrases, a crow
balances on the crown of a Monterey pine,
rasps its black throat, a buzzard circles.
Hedges are white with blackthorn blossom,
celandine brighten the lanes, lambs grow strong.
The city sounds are muffled, streets deserted.
Fingers send messages, smile greets smile on screen.
Fear prowls the tunnels of our dreams,
casts giant shadows on the bedroom walls,
but morning comes, we watch another sunrise
lighten the day, make a list of friends to ring.
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