this island is mine



this island is mine.
it is where i go
to heal,
to love,
to dream,
to be…
this island is mine
for those sullen days,
for those brittle hours on lonely nights,
for those quiet times
when the lifeguards state:
“No Swimming”
“Danger – Strong Currents”
“Beach Closed”

for times such as this.
this daughter of Woe
departs soon.
soon, she will
shut down.
soon, she will
shut me out.
that time is now.
shuttering and spluttering
she banishes me to this place,
somewhere amid the space
where i lose myself.
but i am not lost.
no… no…
quite the contrary.
i have the Moon
and the stars
and the lines on my palm.
they always find me here,
in the cool
and the calm
of reason.



through the cracks
and skeleton trees,
i see you, Jupiter.
i saw you wink at me.
“come, let me look at you…” i whisper
in a ghost of a breath.
from behind the dust
and vapour, i see him.
he is resplendent.
i look into
his wakening eye, in which
there lies
so much wisdom
and penitence.
so much beauty,
i could die tonight but
instead i
ask him



Jupiter sings me his lifestory
in song.
he is my Jack-a-nory,
my bedtime story.
he is supreme.
he is God of all Gods.
he is my shining father,
my light harbringer.
his voice, a storm above
the open sky.
“you came back!” i cry,
“this is your day!”
[you need hide no more…]
but “why” i sigh
“did you come
to steal
my gibbous Moon?”

to which,
there is no reply.



oh, but he is close now.
the thrum of an eagle’s beating wings
fan my face.
oh, that sound.
it terrifies me.
it beguiles me.
it resonates somewhere
inside me.
such power,
such grace.
oh Jupiter…
let me see your face.
i have nothing to offer you.
no white ox
nor lamb.
all i have is all i am,
so take me.
take my loyalty
stoic, like the oak tree.
“take me instead”
i give myself to you.
a small sacrifice to pay.
“take me from my burning bed”
“i could be your sixty four”
oh Jupiter…
i could travel with you.
show me your universe,
leave me be…



this island is mine.
and the Moon i hold
in gaze and
is all that i have.
i look up at
the falling sky
and i am swallowed by
its wondrous gaping mouth.
i am
devoured by its beauty,
i am
like a new star,
by its amplitude and
i feel so small.
the smallest i have ever been.
for here i am,
shipwrecked on this tiny isle.
tossed and breaking
in an ocean of dust,
my wanderlust
fuels a fire
ten billion years old
’tis no wonder
my feet are cold.
but i see it now.
i can taste the “why”
and touch the “how”.
i see it all
through this firewall.
i know why
you come around.
i am fearless,
i see you
through awakened eye.
i am not lost.
no… no…
if truth be told,
i am



“Goodbye Jupiter,
i will see you soon”.

leave me alone
with my gibbous moon
light years away,
when you’re not here,
she is

words & image (c) Kat McDonald 2016

– did anyone else see Jupiter last night and tonight?


11 thoughts on “this island is mine

    • January has been a good month to view Jupiter, particularly the 27/28th January when it passed really close to our moon… but still some gorgeous celestial happenings worth looking out for. Taurus is one of the most beautiful constellations – you can almost imagine the Bull charging down to the left towards Orion. His face is delineated by the “V” shaped cluster of stars called the Hyades; his eye is the red giant star Aldebaran and the tips of his horns are shown by the stars beta and zeta Tauri. Although alpha Tauri, Aldebaran, appears to lie amongst the stars of the Hyades cluster it is, in fact, less than half their distance lying 68 light years away from us. It is around 40 times the diameter of our Sun and 100 times as bright. Aldebaran is Arabic for ‘The Follower’… yes, i have a passion for astronomy, and the mythology surrounding these celestial beings as well as their physics.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. I saw Jupiter. I’d hoped it was something else, but it wasn’t. Got my hopes up when I saw it. Very lovely piece, Kat. This reminded me of the very first time I noticed the sky. Pulls you in, just like that. Nicely done.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Jeez. thank you! i can’t remember the first time i saw the sky… i feel quite sad about that, about not remembering how that felt. wow. can you really remember those emotions? that’s tremendous. thank you for taking time to comment. that’s greatly appreciated.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I do remember. I was 12. I looked up, and I was terrified of the universe. Small. But it’s refreshing. Knowing your place in the universe tends to take the edge off of mortality. At least, it did for me.

    No problem on the comment. πŸ™‚

    Liked by 1 person

    • aw wow! that’s truly awesome, remembering those feelings. you do feel dwarfed by its magnitude… i like to lie on my back and gaze at the passing clouds. sometimes it becomes as though you are looking down unto a deep, deep ocean.

      i remember late summer last year, wild camping with my boyfriend, in a remote part of the Scottish Highlands… we sat, by a campfire, and it was pitch black… and my love said to me… “just think, right now, we have our backs to the sun… we are at the farthest point away from the sun…” and that blew my mind and terrified me… i got to thinking “Jesus… it’s just wide open space out there in front of me… so much space and emptiness and what if i were to take a step forward and fall into that space….” my mind was completely blown! i am fascinated by space and our planets and stars. infinite beauty.

      Liked by 1 person

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