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

Wednesday, 30 March 2011

the blue boat

900 miles later in Wester Ross: its lochs and glens, deserted bays, lyrical place names, sea air throbbing with selkie song, land soaked with Celtic yearning...

At Plockton

The same surely the same blue boat now
wallowing in water and battered gunwales
peeled to the wood still tethered in the arms
of its mirror-twin safe in the lee of the little bay –
a quarter century and 18,000 tides 
under its keel along the way to here 

where I pull up and stand in dreichy mist drifting in
across the islet with its rhododendrons
not yet purpling the hill the silver belly
of a whale-blue shower sliding my way
and there the barnacle-crusted creels
and turf-roofed bothy and further out 

that horizon    the silence where no 
hint of you still lingers except as 
particle or wave, where I let you go

Roselle Angwin

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