in the universe
our planet is a mote of dust
suspended in a sunbeam

(Carl Sagan)

The sun is strange today,
sky glows dull and light —
dust particles — and I
am full of others,
carrying crowds.

The memories of their talk leak
from my skin,
reminders of their flow,
the bagpipe of their lungs
empties, fills.

We are here —
our teeth jar with a similar ache;
we are here on this pale blue dot
containing all those
who have ever lived.

Circling round the sun, I ask
that there may yet be a turn,
a coming home to the common
rising-falling of our breath.

Sarah Penwarden

Sarah Penwarden is a therapist based in Auckland. She has had poems published in Poetry New Zealand, Turbine, Meniscus, Southerly, Mayhem, and takahē. She has had stories published in tākāhe and Meniscus, and a story broadcast on Radio New Zealand.

More by Sarah Penwarden ›

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