These past few weeks, I’ve found myself seized by something that’s urged me to write and write. It all began one evening when this seemingly random video started playing on youtube. Rio, my youngest child, 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 been furiously writing ever since.
Now I will share 6 of about 30 poems that have come in the wake of 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
It All Goes In
How to define god? Reality
Said Pico Iyer without thinking
How many realities are possible
In the infinity of time and space
As fluctuations and possibilities
Teem in the cosmic cauldron?
Who made the cauldron? What
If it’s made collectively, each of
Us adding things in? Dreaming
Goes into the pot. Amino acids
Go in. Every teardrop that came
Or wouldn’t come. Harnessing
Fire. Reproduction. Calcium
The concrete I poured on my
Studio floor today. It all goes in
Protozoa too. And dark energy
And all the things we haven’t
Discovered. From the primordial
Past to the far future, whatever
Has been or will ever be, it’s all
Simmering in there. For who
Or what is the mystery that
Feeds us and keeps us alive
Phantom Theories
I often start sentences with and
A colleague recently called that into
Question, saying her 5th grade teacher
Told her to never start sentences with
And. Here’s the thing. In 5th grade, my
Teacher said we only have five senses
Turns out we have many more. My 9th
grade teacher said it’s scientific fact
We only use 10% of our brains. Right
And in 1492 Columbus discovered
America. My 11th grade teacher said
Crustaceans feel no pain, so when I
Saw lobsters being boiled alive back
Then I couldn’t imagine the immense
Torture they were suffering. In university
My freshman physics professor taught
Me theories about the universe I could
Count on as laws. They were fixed and
Reliable and always to be followed
Most of them have been disproven now
I’ve learned so many phantom theories
Throughout life that, if stitched together
They’d form a long trail behind me
Dragging me down. Right and wrong
Good bad aren’t as absolute as we’ve
Been taught. At some point, we must all
Let go of everything we think we know
Follow right answers all the way to their
Wrong questions. Follow questions all
The way to their dissolution. Then maybe
We have a faint chance of glimpsing, for
A split second, something close to truth
Of a Wilder Nature
There’s something about wild animals
Do you know what I mean? They’re
Aware of things I’m not. Sometimes
They even seem to recognize me while
I, in my blundering humanness, cannot
Remember how or when we might’ve
Met. It’s as if there is a wolf in me who
Had to leave my pack, find my place
In new territory. As if there is a whale
In me, that giant sperm whale mother
Desperately trying to save her pup
From the jaws of orcas only to flee
The bloodstained waters just before
They ripped her baby’s tongue out
Of its body. Somehow I recognized her
As she wailed and wandered in grief
So heavy it took all of her effort to even
Surface for a breath. It’s as if there is
A bee in me too, dutifully maintaining
The hive. Or that bee I once caught
Sleeping in a dandelion that peeked its
Five eyes open to wink at me. Have I
Been here before? I wondered. Do we
Know each other? I know it’s crazy but
Nature recycles everything, down to
The level of atoms. When we die, our
Atoms will disassemble, return to the
Atmosphere and then reassemble in
Another organism. Imagine, every atom
Inside of you was once inside of
Something else. Life passes between
Forms in a continual dance flowing in
And out of some fundamental source
It seems, we could be billions of years
In the making and only just beginning
Lately I’ve come interested in animal
Tracking, and let me tell you, it can feel
Like trying to solve cosmic mysteries
I’ll find these clues, clear markings in
The landscape that transfigure in
Perplexing ways. The animal appears
To be a hopper. Wait, it’s now begun
To waddle. It went this way and then
It vanished into thin air? Days later I’ll
Stumble upon the same bizarre tracks
Several towns away and think it can’t
Be the same animal. It just can’t be
And yet it often is. It’s like molecules
In quantum physics. They’re waves
And also particles. They won’t behave
In our equations, won’t be reduced
To a word or concept, they won’t stay
Still enough to be pinned down. Find
A molecule in one place, then blink
It’s in a totally different realm. ‘Here’
And ‘there’ simultaneously and always
Entangled with other things. If only we
Could explain it all. Find that one grand
Theory of Everything, make all the
Pieces fit together. What I’ve learned
From tracking wild animals is to not
Rely too much on logic. My mind gets
In the way. When I think too much
I lose the tracks. All I can do is ask
Who are you? Where did you go? Why
Did you pass on this rock where the
Snake now lies in the sun? I can ask
Any question I want, and then I must
Let it go. If resolution comes, it only
Comes when I’m not looking for it
It comes as a feeling, a strange pull in
A certain direction. It comes as I go
Deep into my creaturely body with
Pheromones and processing systems
We abandoned long ago. It’s the only
Chance I have of ever coming face to
Face with the animal, of peering into
A window of the world I’ve never seen
Before. Even then, there’s never any
Explanation. Just a sliver of a story
Still being written. A vast puzzle with
New pieces constantly arriving. It is
Said the Universe speaks in numbers
Which I don’t doubt, I’ve experienced it
Many times before. But it also speaks
In poetry and in the wind and in the
Movement of a frog’s tongue as it
Reaches out for a insect. It speaks in
Music, symphonies really, and colors
Our eyes can’t detect. It speaks in
Echolocation, in mycelium and rain
drops on the lake. It speaks in the
Silent force of gravity and in a star
Traveling ten light years to reach us
Physicists want one mathematical
Equation to capture the logic of the
Entire universe when we haven’t even
Understood our own selves. All of our
Definitions and calculations, they’ve
Taken us far, but what if they cannot
Take us all the way? Life might be of a
Wilder nature. Like an animal, like you
And I, maybe the universe, too, is still
Becoming. Moment by moment, it’s all
Undecided, it is alive, it is unfolding
Would you like to see some other poems? What a wild ride this has been for me!
xx
Beth
* 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.