Astronomy
A Poem
Astronomy
I was only a child, when
they told me about Astronomy
It takes me half a lifetime to
go back to confront the stars
To give voice to the child
I didn’t know I was:
‘I am miserable
You make me wish I was over
They told me you were dead
I am confused
You belonged to me
But, if you are dead
I am alone
You are so far away
We are bound by your light
And it sings to mine
Yet, every night you die in front of me
‘Stay awake’ you say
‘Watch me’ you say
Do I hear The Dead speak?
Can I trust my ears and eyes?
I’d seen your light and known I was alive
Now, I cannot bear to be with it.
I feel sick
It’s outrageous
I’m stuffed to the gills with this story
I am hungry and cannot be filled
I am murderous and do not feel safe
I am angry
And live to see myself die
Don’t touch me
I am Heaven and all I do is cry.’
Copyright Sarah (Riseborough) Silvermoon 2025
I don’t believe that the poem just speaks of separation from wonder, awe, and natural, felt connection to the wider environment; I believe it arrived because I’m reconnecting.
I do not believe I could allow the poem to move into the world without a sense of a process having taken place, particularly in the actual poem where the first lines remained unconnected to its body for many months.
Without allowing space for the relationship to evolve, I’d maybe have allowed it a limited existence as a vehicle for an intense emotional experience. This is a bit of push-and-pull, though. I’ve been looking for a poem to publish here and was at a loss as to what felt appropriate and ripe.
I feel that a lot of my poems recollect relationships, encounters and events that weren’t consciously acknowledged in the first instance and, that a relationship with them is simultaneous with a relationship with self and nature.
Is not a grand thing. I don’t go seeking wild encounter often, or claim extensive knowledge about habitat or inhabitants. I do wonder at the potential for new cultural shapes and ways of living, come from the deconstruction of our colonial cultural environment. I think that takes a stepping away, if only in terms of redefining the quality of time and space and widening definitions I have inherited about my relationship with my inner world.
The stars did not die permanently when I was younger; their luminosity always promised a return; but, the anger towards those I blamed for separating us was, itself, separating until it was acknowledged enough.
We are, in part, planetary, orbital; yet many, like me despair when some old tune comes around again, some shadow, some trigger.
We never blame the planets for coming back, nor the seasons, no matter what the last might have brought.
Okay, that’s enough from me for now.
I hope May is blooming for you.
With love.
❤️