These past few weeks, I’ve found myself in the grip of something that’s urged me to write and write. It all began one evening when this seemingly random video came on youtube. My toddler had fallen asleep in my arms, so I had the volume muted. I watched with subtitles only, my eyes jumping between images and numbers of years ticking into incomprehensible time, my imagination awakening in ways I could’ve never predicted. I’ve always felt deeply connected to and guided by nature, but suddenly I understood the Earth as belonging to something far bigger, perhaps limitless. It’s as if the entire cosmos came alive to me. I’ve been furiously writing ever since.
Now I’ll share the first 3 of about 30 poems that have come in the wake of seeing that video. I don’t know where to put them all. I don’t even know if they’re any good. I don’t have time to think too much because every day another poem, sometimes two, comes. I don’t know where they’re coming from. I’m not even a poet!
Trying to make sense
Stop trying to figure it out or make
Sense of it all. You cannot solve this
By trying to. Logic won’t be your guide
Follow your body, I heard. Where was I
Going? I was chasing animal tracks out
Onto the ice. Before I knew it, I was way
Out on the frozen sea, ice so thin it
Strained under my weight. I ran with
Rabbit and red fox, I think, and definitely
A few dogs. The hoof tracks of deer
Took me back to land where all of the
Knotted up things inside of me began
To unravel. I pulled a thread, its sharp tip
Skid out across the ice, carving patterns
Out of the chaos. It’s poetry, I realized
All of it, nothing short of poetry. And
Then I did the only thing I could. I bowed
To the unfolding of what is far wilder
Than I ever knew. I am saltwater and
I am stardust. All of us, we are Nature
We belong to the Earth who belongs to
A greater cosmic mother who birthed
Galaxies of stars and moons, set them to
The metre of gravity and holds us in a
Womb we cannot measure the limits of
The Cosmic Cauldron
Standing on a rock, clouds drifting
Across the horizon, I have to remind
Myself we are moving too. Even in
Stillness, we’re whirling through a
Cosmos we can’t fully grasp. Our
Theories keep breaking down and
Our questions only to lead to more
And more questions. It seems
All we’ve held to be true and
Timeless could be headed toward
Inevitable decline. Despite this
I know the chance of being alive
Is so insanely small it’s nearly
Impossible for any of us to be
Here. Not just you and I and all
We are, but the mosses, starling
River, photosynthesis, snowflakes
Tectonic plates, music, buildings
Scraping blue skies, molecules
Sweetgrass in the wind, the milky
Scent of a newborn baby. And
Instead of marveling at all of this
Life, we’re clasping it too tightly like
Holding a butterfly in our hands
Crushing its wings, so we put it in
A container and we smother it
With our fear of losing it. It is said
The Earth will continue on through
Its epochs. Our universe will
Keep inflating towards entropy
Even our beloved star will burn
Out and devour us until everything
We know is reduced to nothing
A black hole that doesn’t stir. Yet
It does. For nothing is never truly
Nothing. An empty womb is still
A fertile space ripe with potential
Nothingness is the dark cosmic
Cauldron that simmers for eternities
Upon eternities until something
Flickers and boom! Energy and
Matter could go scattering in all
Directions. From the charred ashes
Of our universe a new one could
Be born, could even have the
Infinitesimal chance of eventually
Organizing itself, over eons, into
Something where Life could erupt
All over again. Imagine it, one day
An astonishing life form – maybe
We wouldn’t even recognize it
As life – could open its eyes, gasp
For its first breath. And only one
Breath it will be in the ongoing
Poem that is cosmic time. I know
The statistical chances of it are
Zero. But the universe has an
Infinite amount of time. It can
Wait. And stir. And wait. And stir.
That is our story too. We are
Somewhere in the midst of
That one single breath we’ve
Been gifted. Alive against
Impossible odds. Don’t you
Understand? As far as we know
Nothing like Earth has ever
Been before and nothing like
It may ever be again. Regardless
Of how it happened, or why
What can we do but go and
Be alive! And not squander this
Miracle with our fear of losing it
Returning
I wasn’t one for cosmic mysteries
Until I was. The questions of my youth
Returned. Questions that had once
Tempted me to become a scientist, a
Physicist to be precise. I’d given that up
Turned my attention to what is earthly
And animal, gotten caught up in culture
And anyway the big questions used to
Send me down spirals of despair. The
Idea of everything returning to a state
Of nothingness, what was the point of
Anything? Life felt absurd. So I pushed
All of those inquires aside, and now
They’re back. Like an animal body
Washed up onto the shore. I presumed
It was dead, but then I got closer and
Saw it was breathing in a heaving, help-
Me sort of way. As I washed it wounds
Blood coated my hands like ointment
One eye opened. A magnificent aching
Eye I peered into and saw the flash of
Eternity. Slowly the animal has gained
Strength, it is stronger than I now and
Is guiding me out to unknown places
Revealing things that no longer terrify
Me at all. In fact, life has never felt more
Sacred, so beyond my wildest dreams
And it continues to gather me in its
Jagged arms, throw me further out into
Bottomless layers of mystery and awe
* The title, Poetry Coming In, is inspired by Angie McMahon’s song, Music’s Coming In, the penultimate track of her album, Light, Dark, Light Again, which has been a true companion for me over the last few months.
xx Beth
