Poetry For Now Archive

Ecology – Listening to the Music of Space

By Ruth McMahon . . .


My wounded body speaks

The wounded words of deep

Incandescent murmurations.

Asking high and low

A persistent question:

‘Where is death?’

My ancient friend

Who sits across the fireside from me,


The face of nature’s wanting

Unfolds a mighty turn of irony:

‘It’s life I need’ it pleads

‘Honour me, won’t you?’

The answer feeding gloriously upon

My naked place

My liminal space

No cause nor care abounding.

The light drops in to keep us company

Dancing between the unspoken tears

That live between the here and there.

Fire burns brightly

Bringing a welcome for itself

Testing those with fierceness

To jostle for power.

From the watery glade of unsipped tea

Undrunk for fear of avarice

Emerges a mighty claw

Alive with potent direction.

Nouns and verbs scaffold their shape

Of straight lines into circles

Backward and forward in unison

Pulsing the half speak of nothingness

Into form.

Doorways stand so still, begging for their opening

No – One – Looks.

The moment drags on repetitively

Once and often

Independent of anything

Hanging in the universe

Upside-down in belonging.