poem for the day
THE WOMB OF STARS
The womb of stars embraces us;
remnants of their fiery furnaces
pulse through our veins.
We are of the stars,
the dust of the explosions
cast across space.
We are of the earth:
we breathe and live in the breath
of ancient plants and beasts.
Their cells nourish the soil;
we build our communities
on their harvest of gifts.
Our fingers trace the curves
carved in clay and stone
by forebears unknown to us.
We are a part
of the great circle of humanity
gathered around the fire, the
hearth, the altar.
An awe so quiet I don’t know
when it began.
A gratitude had begun to sing
in me.
Was there some moment dividing
song from no song?
When does dewfall begin?
When does night fold its arms
Over our hearts to cherish them?
When is daybreak?
- DENISE LEVERTOV -