photo credit: Teri Petz, http://www.worksofbeauty.ca
Hello dear friends, on this cold day on traditional Blackfoot territory, on the New Moon just two days after Imbolc, Candlemas, feast day of St. Brigid, and Ground Hog Day! An auspicious time, for sure.
Today I offer you my most recent poem. I hope it adds to your wonder at our weird, marvelous, suffering world:
Dinosaur in My Living Room, Sunshine in My Heart
Have you ever realized that everything,
and I mean EVERYTHING
in the universe is the same set of elements
mixed together in a myriad of ways,
breaking down, coming together in new combinations,
moving together and apart, in some bizarre cosmic dance?
As someone who doesn’t like my food touching on the plate,
that’s not immediately an attractive thought.
I hear my mother (and now my spouse, and
increasingly, my son) saying
“Don’t worry about it. It all get mixed up in your stomach anyway.”
And visions of supper thrown into a blender dance in my head.
But I digress. . .
Think of it:
At the Big Bang (don’t you just love those
serious scientific names that physicists use?)
at the Big Bang, everything,
all of material reality,
every atom that is,
is compacted together (like my supper in the blender. . . . )
at the self-appointed moment,
or at a word from the gods,
what has been squished, the singularity,
dislocates into movement and pattern.
and to make a long story short,
here we are!
I saw it yesterday in my living room:
I saw the atoms and molecules,
sand (that is, silicon chips)
and dinosaurs (the plastic made from oil made from decayed carbon life forms)
all coming together, creating THIS computer on
the stool next to dear spouse’s favorite chair.
Dinosaurs re-formed so that I can not only touch them, now,
but reach into the internet to learn about them.
And those dinosaurs were formed from the plants, the other animals,
the dirt they ate,
and the plants grew not only from soil
filled with little bugs, stones, and metals,
but from the sunshine itself
nourishing the plant through photosynthesis.
This Chromebook holds the water of millions of years of rainclouds
nourishing the plants nourishing the animals that decayed,
making the oil that makes the plastic of the black lid of the computer.
And someday, if we’re lucky,
future humans will salvage the elements of this computer
out of recycling centers or landfills
to make those flying cars we were all promised
in the visions of the future —- just like the Jetsons!
Maybe. . .
Yesterday, I saw the sunlight pour into my living room
illuminating the trees within the couch frame
and the dinosaurs and sheep
in the nylon and wool upholstery.
Then I thought of the air I breathe,
how the very molecules now circulating in me
might have circulated in the breath of those dear dinosaurs
now in the computer and the cushions.
Atoms that I breathe in may have been breathed in
by Jesus, by the Buddha,
by Jack the Ripper, by Genghis Khan. . . .
No, I don’t live in a cosmic blender
But in a cosmic dance
coming together, falling apart.
Recombining in new forms
that so easily hide
the dinosaur in my living room
and the sunshine in my heart.
— Cat Charissage, (c) 2019, a.r.r.
Your words dance in the shadow of the big bang, and the butterfly wings ripple across the universe and join them.
And your words add to the poetry of the cosmic dance! Thank you Lynn.
OH CAT! This is lovely, the dance! Thanks so much for making it public, for all of us. Miss you and hope to see you this summer. Big Hug,
Thank you, Enee! Yup — I’ll see you at Heart of the Wounded Healer. Can’t wait — though there’s lots of good stuff happening before then, too. Next weekend, for instance, I’m taking an icon writing (painting) workshop — should be interesting!
I love your poem, Cat..I am always amazed at how your words come together in a way that makes images in my mind and makes me smile..Thank you so much..
Thank you Carol! Smiles are always good in the morning! Cat
Your poem’s immediacy of place and time with far off times and places sends a swirl of time travel into my world, capturing episodes in dr E’s workshops, table conversations, and connecting your spirit again to my world here in Oregon. Thanks for being you, Cat!
Your comment brings all sorts of memories, Mary Jo. We truly have been part of interesting times both together and in our own worlds. Thank you so much for your inspiring comment. Cat
Love your poem, Cat!
Thank you so much.