She began in the long unlit, not knowing she was alive
The first thing she knew was light,
then heat, the attraction of matter;
contours of her body curving, turning.
For measureless time she grew,
gathered the dust of old ideas,
made them bright again; set them
spinning in blackness, throwing
circles of light, molecules speaking
a language she taught them.
Now she tries to peer beyond her edges,
but she’s trapped in a spiralling self,
a growing emptiness. Dark holes inside
suck her substance; she senses in them
the before and after, the secret geometry
of her birth, the shifting shape of a slow cold death.
Karen Dennison
First published in Corbel – Nature and Death.
Featured image – By European Space Agency – https://www.esa.int/ESA_Multimedia/Images/2013/03/Planck_CMB, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=108189337