Feb 022010
It comes the same as ever
even as the world page turns,
the weather warms,
man’s role, a paragraph,
easier to read, consider.
Imbolc. A goddess day.
The earth spins the same as ever
even as new words are written,
gravity, circumstance,
determining our shape, and form,
the road ahead becoming clearer.
We celebrate no less.
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As I read this out loud it echoed inside me.
It was an odd one, writing this. The poem basically says that whatever comes to pass as a consequence of humanity's actions, we who believe can still find hope and joy in celebrating the lives granted to us and the wonders of the world.
I actually get what you mean by the echo. For a small poem it has a lot of space within it, big ideas. When I'd written it I worried it was pessimistic for a poem about one of our festival days of the year, but it isn't. It's saying that even as our species rushes towards self-extinction, we who believe can do what we can, connect to the gods and the planet, find much that is good and true and affirmative.
Without that faith, some of us, certainly myself, might otherwise become trapped in pessimist thinking with no way out. Our faith doesn't stop us being able to address the problems, it allows us to fully engage with them while knowing that whatever comes is part of a much bigger picture, a universal one.