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

Sunday, 9 February 2014

two Imbolc poems

At the edge of the woods and the water
 for the Inward Flame group, 2014

After John has sounded his great Cernunnos horn to awaken
the spring maiden, the silence is vaster and whiter than before
and falls on our faces like swandown, like new light;

and now there is just this – light coating the nakedness
of each sinuous beech twig above and beyond the stream,
the veering westerly sifting and shivering the ash crowns

on the horizon, and we here trying to track time, the cycles 
of time; and over the fence the jostling proclamation 
of snowdrops, the earth's great WE ARE shout –

then the gong's voice too fades away
and the wind and the water take over.

© Roselle Angwin, 1st February 2014

Every Breath
for R, who interrupted

February cusp. The restless sky suddenly bleaches
and young light blazes through stormfronts;
the wind arrives in breakers and swells,
tosses the trees on its airy sea.

Every second breath comes from ocean,

said the guy on the radio earlier, and the knowledge
that we breathe the same air, you and I,
becomes a felt-in-the-body truth.

But still what you think you heard 
as my voice in your inward ear
is your own deepest knowing:
live by soul, it says, or die.

© Roselle Angwin, 2nd February 2014

No comments:

Post a Comment

Blog Archive