Head in the Sand

HeadInTheSand

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

Mask

Change

DSC_0291.jpg

Something happened. It was the inevitable grinding of the tectonic plates. The unfolding of a naked leaf into a perfect lotus pose. A bird song that cracked the silence. A kiss that vanished. A heart beat that stopped. There were words that never made it to the page and sighs unexpressed. There was the deepest indigo of my soul where the darkness of night was broken only by the silver crescent of the moon. Then sky so blue that I cried tears of joy. I held myself in the certainty that this moment would never last. Then I exhaled freedom.

My love is a garden at twilight

This is a rich time of change. The last flowers are tossed to the wind and roll across the wet grass. Autumn is quickly erased by the cold breath of winter. I stand in the twilight stillness and breathe in the last life of my past. My love, you are my garden. The roses are gone and I’m turning fresh soil. It’s time to plant broadbeans.

‘My love is a garden at twilight’, oil on canvas, 30x30cm

copyright Jeni McMillan

My love is a gaden at twilight