What if we could see radio waves, a radio sky?
Lighthouse pulsars, a web of egg white floss
from that first explosive micro moment?
These days we believe in rivers, in their sources
and in how they melt into sea. In ageing trees,
and we cry when they fall. Or in a tumble of birdsong,
or the key in a door and in warmth beyond.
Or in Jesus on Sunday. But this is really
to believe a fairy tale, seeing our beginning,
Lighthouse pulsars, a web of egg white floss
from that first explosive micro moment?
These days we believe in rivers, in their sources
and in how they melt into sea. In ageing trees,
and we cry when they fall. Or in a tumble of birdsong,
or the key in a door and in warmth beyond.
Or in Jesus on Sunday. But this is really
to believe a fairy tale, seeing our beginning,
seeing our fourteen billionth year, seeing
no Moon, no Sun, seeing supernova remnants.
Seeing it over and over and no dark left.
Seeing it over and over and no dark left.
And what if I saw you out there, as radio?
Show me your brilliant pulse, your rhythm.
Is that you inside a splash of stars?
Or are you fainter, a blinking grain of sand,
dancing away from me, away to a new Galaxy,
fusing into the clouds of white noise?
Josephine Shaw, London, UK
4 comments:
Josephine Shaw was born in Wiltshire, has three daughters and lives in London. She has been writing all her life, mostly for herself, but after being invited onto the Seamus Heaney Centre for Poetry Summer School at Queens University Belfast last year, she is starting to share her work. Much of her poetry is about love, place and the meaning of memories.
Finally a blog which provides a unique style of writing and enjoyable poetry! Will definitely be following- have a visit of mine and would love any feedback as I am a young new beginner in the world of writing- I cover a vast amount of topics in mine, something for everyone! :) x
Quantum verses ... carrying over the normality of the real world!
Ciao! Jacopo
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