Category The brain

West of Caritas

“The Conversion of Saul” by Michelangelo, Pauline Chapel fresco, Vatican City.

 

This “I” we each inherit, made spine

of the world, axis, pole,

look-out from the world’s helm

gazing on the universe,

gazing on you,

gazing on death…

 

“Mummy,” I said,

seven or eight years old,

“I have decided

that I am God.”

We were walking east

along Glebe Road

towards the… Continue reading West of Caritas

A Sentence Called Humanity

Counting

This poem seems to follow on a bit from the previous one uploaded here. But whereas I wrote “I Insist my Ribs…” over three years ago, “Counting” has been written in the last few days.

I have a vague idea of what… Continue reading Counting

Trace a Fraught Frontier

Where’s the fraught frontier between

Mercia and East Anglia ? Guards were stationed here

gazing out from within. And within

was somewhere to die for. And without

was someone to kill. I explored it once,

that fraught frontier, now footpath

between nettles. It was sunday

and Cambridge families were out walking there

after a good lunch.

And where’s

the fraught frontier between Wales

and the… Continue reading Trace a Fraught Frontier

The True, the Between, the Forming

This is the penultimate seclusion song of this series, in which the hyphen between I and Thou has alternated each day with the shadow.… Continue reading The True, the Between, the Forming

Learning to Dance with my Shadow that Haunts me

Shall I teach my shadow how I like to dance ? Or must I learn the dance-steps my shadow knows ? Or should we learn a new dance, altogether ? … Continue reading Learning to Dance with my Shadow that Haunts me

Where My Shadow Lives

I Range the Earth

Cat Vies with Hard Drive for my Soul

Our race has re-made the world to be a reflection of our own chaotic inner lives and processes. We’ve fashioned our environment in such a way that it has become our self-portrait (if we dare to look). Perhaps we see ourselves for the first time, when we look… Continue reading Cat Vies with Hard Drive for my Soul

Dust

Lost in the chaos of present events, we – or something in us – look to leadership for orientation, guidance and comfort. And the same something perhaps assumes that, the worse the crisis, the better that leadership must be and rescue is on the way. And assumes as well that, in this chaos, our own… Continue reading Dust

Copyright © Rogan Wolf – Poet and Social Worker
In all our sanctuaries we sit at risk

Built on Notes Blog Core
Powered by WordPress