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.
Sunday, 15 December 2013
the isness of this
There is no more that needs to be said than this insightful little phrase, akin to a Zen koan, the teaching riddles that Zen masters ask their pupils to meditate on: 'What did you look like before your parents conceived you?'
Isn't that what we all seek, all the time – some sense of timelessness, permanence, behind the appearances of things, behind change and transience? And isn't that, too, what a good poem might give us*, or point to; for which we go to poetry, art, music, dance – or love?
dusk falls on the trees
the blackbirds' thrushes' redwings'
small songs wake the stars
for love – forgetting we're all
this small wind
coming to rest
on my face
© Roselle Angwin December 2013
* not suggesting these little haiku do, mind!
- ► 2017 (68)
- ► 2016 (88)
- ► 2015 (78)
- ► 2014 (123)
- letting go
- grief and gratitude
- christmas cheer and baba yaga
- winter solstice poem, 2013
- extinct is forever
- this wild and precious december day: birds, and a ...
- the isness of this
- A Certain Hush: What's the Time Mr Wolf?
- 'If on a winter's night'
- 'don't just do something, sit there'
- Sometimes a Wild God
- december ragbag
- the inward flame: residential Imbolc workshop in D...
- ▼ December (15)
- ► 2012 (199)
- ► 2011 (283)