Covenant of the Goddess

Margaret Atwood turned 82 last week. Here is a poem she wrote.

THE MOMENT

The moment when, after many years

of hard work and a long voyage,

you stand in the centre of your room,

house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,

knowing at last how you got there,

and say, I own this,

Is the same moment the trees unloose

their soft arms from around you,

the birds take back their language,

the cliffs fissure and collapse,

the air moves back from you like a wave

and you can’t breathe.

No, they whisper. You own nothing.

You were a visitor, time after time

Climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.

We never belonged to you.

You never found us.

It was always the other way round.

Photo by Tim Walker

Hat tip: Lamar Graham