Friday, April 12, 2019
Swirling Particles––poem by Dorothy
Swirling Particles
Now I have reached the age
where everything around
speaks to me.
I see with Einstein's eye,
hear notes crashing
in Mozart's ears,
leap onstage with Nureyev,
no riser required.
What does it mean
that the rose blossoms
in my head,
leaves burst open
along my own spine,
my curls the vines tangled
on the arbor overhead.
Nothing of me remains,
only this seeing, hearing
instrument of the divine.
Only these tones,
these frequencies
of frozen light,
these vibrations
of unsung matter.
I have no argument
with this arrangement.
I am glad to be God's emissary,
her messenger of creation,
her faithful reporter
of news of the universe,
the one she has created
and given us to become,
swirling particles
in the infinite dance.
Dorothy Walters
April 12, 2019
(image from internet)
