by Winifred Rawlins

Space-time in Einstein’s universe
Bends like a roof above our head,
And underneath our restless feet
Curves like runners on a sled.

It seems we cannot wholly fall
Through sudden rents in outer space;
Space-time would toss us lightly back
To bounce into our destined place.

The heart has inner solitudes
As vast as telescopes can scan;
The world beyond the Milky Way
Are not more lonely than a man.

Yet through this inner universe
Move constant stars with names we know,
And many suns and smaller moons
Within its darkness gently glow;

And is this inner space-time curved
Like circling arms below, above,
And are we held, and cannot fall
Through holes within the web of love?

From Dreaming Is Now, Golden Quill Press, 1963.

Rawlins taught classes in poetry for many years at Pendle Hill.