Tuesday, 4 September 2007

An Existential Poem

With it being September now, I don't know about you but I begin to get all reflective - I mean I think more, not that I become all shiny - and I find that, after spending the summer in the garden, my mind turns back to my books.

I thought I'd share with you a verse from a poem that not only means a lot to me, because I had it read at the Golfer's funeral, but is also as good a summing up of how I feel about my existence as I've read in verse.

I'm a bit worried about copyright but I've only reproduced one verse and I've given a link to both the publisher's page and to the book on Amazon, so I think it'll be okay. Here's the verse:
If I were other than I find I am,
not atoms with this body and this face,
but scattered particles, part of the land,
the sea, the air, having left no trace
of what I was before, or who, or why,
as I shall be when I am turned to dust,
then I'd not be afraid to sleep or die,
trusting that of all gods Nature knows best.
If she gives me to winds, flames, streams and mud,
my dreams will bear fruit, my ideas come to bud.


This is the first verse from If Nature by Sarah Wardle. Incredibly, this was her first collection of verse - find out more here: Bloodaxe Books

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