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 the little steps and the big steps that bring us closer to the end.
Sometimes there’s just magic. Nothing easily explained, yet so easily understood. It begins like a tiny drop of water tumbling earthwards, touching leaves, fronds, petals. Sliding with consummate grace down blades of grass to ground with a sigh. Over time the water table fills. Each space between now plump with possibilities. A bone-dry drought broken. Birds flock from distant lands and rest on the surface. Thus, the Sun God returns and the Goddess awakens.
It’s been weeks now and my heart is heavier than muddy boots. I walk the mountain and the kangaroo families flee from potential danger. Yesterday I met a woman who said, I have lived near here for forty years. They are starving. The cull must go on. I looked at her weathered face and then at the green grass growing peacefully on the slope. I wanted to speak but replied, I don’t want to talk about this. She continued, they are only animals, more are killed on the roads. I cracked. I had seen the new housing development from the peak. Humans in competition with another species. What else should we do, she asked. You don’t expect us to put a gun to our heads. Perhaps we should, I flung in her direction as she turned and walked home to safety.
I read that 11,000 kangaroos have been killed on the mountain and buried in shallow graves since 2009. Not counting 14,000 killed by the defense force. Enough is enough.
They ran,
Away from the
Footsteps that
Smelt like man.
I paused.
One foot close
To a white bone death
They caused.
You know,
It’s nothing.
Be afraid of
The truth we sow.
We lie,
In hope of
A better way
To live and die.
They run,
Because
In our hearts
We carry the gun.
I stop
Believing
That kindness begins
At the top.
