Cat eyes hunting prey.
Clandestine footprints on untrodden soil.
But where were the mewlings?
Had they suffocated on the taste of fear?
Look deeper, said the tree, because trees always know.
Sink into the soil, sang the earth as it always did.
Wrap the tenderness of leaves around your heart, cried the oneness of nature.
And she did.
But where were the mewlings?
Breathe in, breathe out, said the tree.
They came, slowly at first,
Then dancing like wild beasts,
Silence torn between their teeth.
I’m drunk on possibilities. You know, one of those moments when you want to say I love you guys, to the ex who I truly loved, the friends who I love present tense and the people who I will love in the future. Life is so fucking conjugated. And yet so simple.
It’s an old post but the sentiments remain. I don’t post much these days as my life is generally offline and offgrid. I’m breathing in the air of constant change where creativity takes a million forms. As we breathe in and out together I wish for a deeply felt year.
The air is like soup and my brain is a mash of desires that cannot be fulfilled. I am trapped in this room while Australia burns. And the politicians keep denying the cause.
I am suffocating on the stupidity of climate denial. I check the apps again. Extremely Unhealthy air is no longer a surprise. When it slides to Moderate I breathe a shallow sigh of relief. It’s amazing how humans acclimatise, become complacent. Sure we need to adapt, but let’s not just put our heads in the sand and hope it passes … because it’s not going to.
If we can’t change the game players who juggle corporate profits and political power, let’s work on what we can do. Talk with your friends and family and love deeply beyond what you already know. Solutions come from baring our souls and being vulnerable. You might want to plant some seeds in the soil and in the minds of those who haven’t yet thought about it.
I’m ready for action. I’m putting on my face mask and heading out into the smoke.
*If you enjoy my writing and want to read about something different I have another site here: https://wordpress.com/view/wildartwanderer.travel.blog
She looked at the tiny droplets of water clinging to the window,
Breathed in the subtle change of air.
The sun was sliding, ever so slowly,
The gentle pause to the end of the day.
Are we so different?
Does the river not cry as it stumbles and falls?
Is the flesh of rock not the same as mine only hardened by age?
Do your tears not join others and flow to the sea?
Your breathe, nourishment for another soul?
Your sweat damp like earth after rain?
Are we so different?
After all?
‘She’s got quite a spine,’ slammed the undisclosed door.
‘It’s solid, for sure,’ spoke the board of the floor.
‘Yes, the bones are evident,’ revealed the light from the street.
‘I can’t see a thing!’ shouted the shadow of feet.
It was an illusion
Nothing was left behind but the past
In fact she needed nothing more to step into the future
Except the belief that there was one.
Climate Changed her.
The world held her well
Each hard-boned twig that pressed into her flesh
Reminded her that strength and fragility
Exist in the same moment
We crumble and fall
At every moment
And that is the beauty of change
Holding
Being held
Between two worlds we are
The sky in your eyes
The river in mine
We are held
Together
Yet apart
Jeni McMillan 