Where does the river go?
She mused on life.
Such ripe beginnings to tempt the mouth,
The belly full with fecund growth.
The soul divided by love and hope.
The divine incarnate, the ebb and flow.
When to stay and where to go.
She wandered along the humid banks,
Immersed in silent gratitude,
The sky white-faced,
The sun wore grey.
Long leaves simply watched,
And she went away.
I ask you directly because your silence takes me to the edge and I drown in deep water. What do you fear? You are free as a line that escapes from the pen. We made magic for a time. Our colours sang loudly. Our words whispered softly. Does your heart miss one tiny beat?
She leaned toward,
Not knowing if the shoulder
Was strong enough.
She held herself,
Knowing that she was.
Another year has gone by and still there is no treaty for the indigenous peoples of Australia. So we march again. From the makeshift aboriginal tent embassy, ‘illegally’ planted 44 years ago in front of the former Parliament House, to the present seat of Parliament. I’m sweating, not only because it is a searing Summer day, but because we cross the police line and front the seat of power. It’s nothing new, but this time I’m thinking about the police report required to complete my visa application. Of course this is small fry compared to accounts of aboriginal deaths in custody and the institutionalised racism that the loud speakers aim at the bullet-proof doors. All the same, authority prevails and making waves is a risk. But so is life and upholding ones ethics is worth it.
It’s the last night before I fly away from the budding spring and comfort of friends. I’m taking my sketch books along with my excitement. My backpack is full of anticipation, a tiny tent and my sleeping bag. I’m ready for two months wandering… offline. What joy!
Have a beautiful time wherever you find yourself.
You have to look for the signs, said the Goddess.
Is it the snow on the mountain, I asked?
The tree Gods swayed in the bone-chilling gale,
It’s always there if you look.
I passed a glance at the cloud torn sky,
But the Gods continued to shake,
I followed the path and stumbled on rocks,
Dead leaves crackled in mirth.
It’s not so far, said the old man tree,
Watch your step, said the grass!