Do you know how
Do you remember
inside a cocoon?
There in the thick black
of your self-spun womb,
void as the moon before waxing,
(as Christ did
for three days
in the tomb)
in impossible darkness
I was staying at the house of a friend in Dublin a couple of weeks ago and a book almost jumped off her well-laden bookshelves: ‘Saved by a Poem‘ by Kim Rosen (little gem of an interview with her here). That evening I took the book to bed and by the time I was ready for sleep I was deeply nourished by what I’d read, and had taken pictures of several poems and lists of recommended poetry books to take with me the next morning. And now this particular poem came back to mind, as I’m feeling terribly hemmed in and comfortably cozy in turns during these corona days. What wings are growing in the cocoons of our houses? And what melting is required to come out more beautiful and free at the end of this period?!
Go well and melt softly, connecting again and again with what’s important…
Photo by elaine alex on Unsplash
Simple & so true. Thanks
What a profound little poem Kristine. Thank you. Is it by Mary Oliver?
No it’s by Kim Rosen, an interesting writer and poet. Hope you’re well Clare, sending you much love! xx