U n s e e a b l e

 

My heart of flowers

my heart of fire 

my heart of debris

my heart the liar

 

My heart full 

of the river, gushing

shifting earth and stones

formations 

that never sit still

 

I am a floating cloud

Sung aloud

In a silent theatre,

An invisible auditorium

 

The listening air

hands that are not there

gently arrange

 

my heart of flowers

​​​

​

​

S p i d e r  S i l k

​

I walked roughly on my way here

So many spiders’ webs, broken

Their little legs walk across me 

unimaginably light

I came alone to meet you

to find your song

Now I must sit still

I see the sunlight glint 

in the webs between the grass

The intricate weave

like neural pathways of the land

I can hear you now

If I go to you

I will float

over the soft lit grasses

with gentleness

​

​

​

B e t w e e n  D r e a m s

 

All I can do to meet myself 

is let my hand

touch the warmth of 

inhalation and exhalation, 

drink up my tea

and let the salty tears fall

 

I am dying, again

I will not be same

 

One by one 

friends have turned to shadows

The table is empty

and the hearth is ash;

I am leaving the house I have known

 

I am on a boat

lit by a robins flame breast

who sits on the prow

down the waters way

that have no depth;

if you fell in you would not come back

 

The boat is woven of golden threads

that were spun each time I spoke to the Sun

open hearted, like a newborns eye

There is no knowing where I will go

​​​​​​​​

​

​

B l a z i n g P e t a l s

 

Sitting safely between

indistinguishable forms

in the soft goose down 

of surrendering

is determination

 

A force that organizes itself 

 

In this paradox place

taking quill and ink

dark trickle

dripping from the slit

I write my own name on it

on breath of air

on paper that’s not there

 

Unveiling the exiled

my own needs

sow seeds in dark earth

so I may speak from deep wells

held by bedrock and veins of quartz

granite bones

 

There is no other voice

no imitation, no iteration

 

I have removed the 

leeches and suckers

spread my fire around

to ignite these flowers

and they still bloom

blazing petals

that bring renewal,  not doom

 

fire that creates

nutrient dark soil

that feeds seeds

deep in the dark womb

​​

​

​

T i m e s  t o  b e  A w a k e

 

The hour of indigo illumination

beguiles me always

the trees turned

an expressive black lace

against a glowing curtain

of impossible blue

how I wish

I could capture you

it is a tease

as if there were a doorway through

But no sooner has the

endless painting of sky

again captured my heart

then it fades to dusty sand

falling under the weight 

of indescribable dark

pinprick infinities 

keep the vigil

with their perfect path of arc 

until the soundless moments

of shadowless light

give way to the royal

ball of bright

I could almost lay my eyes upon it

in its cloth of coral

but not quite

​​

​​​​

​​

T h e  L o n g i n g  S t o n e s

 

Naked stones

long for the racing water

their bodies smoothed

from its ever embrace

 

the music, the dancing has ended

 

laid bare, a cemetery 

to the memory of the river

 

Stagnant pools 

and the fallen down bridge

reflections that never used to be

 

The audacity to stop the tributary

the natural flow

 

Turned to grasses 

to swampland

to still mirrors

 

Change the flow

and take the gold

It’s not just a way of old

​

​​

​

​

T r u e T r e a s u r e

 

Asleep on the Earth

there is the richest throne

 

Sweeping grasslands

fertile forests 

reedy rivers

flowing with creatures, with rhythm

 

Rich with

patterns of all life 

richer than any 

chair of power

 

Stone that will topple

because it stands alone

 

Rich

enmeshed 

timeless intricate weave 

of deep belonging

 

I lie on the Earth

I am deeply relieved

​

​​

​

Pele

​

There is a cauldron that burns white hot 

that can only be accessed by the tortured 

a place of pure and powerful transformation 

to complete the cycle is instant death 

to the parasite that feeds on the pleasure of suffering 

 

I am white molten metal 

I have never been so strong 

So unforgiving 

to effortlessly strip you of your facade 

my allies are ever burning flames, ever whirling winds 

ever flowing pathways that give and take 

and I make the path less treacherous 

for our children who deserve none of this old rot 

this devilish game 

 

They deserve the sweet sunlit grasses of the goddess 

each strand of hair a narrative sung in love 

and in her love she might seem severe 

you thought you had to play the game 

suck the goodness out with sweet empty words 

 

Now you are naked you need not be afraid 

we can rest here a little while in that respect 

we always longed for but never could find 

That addiction to dark trickery always got in the way 

Little kicks from little tricks that kept you going 

Down down down 

 

Well I have lifted it off like a jumper all covered in tar 

You can take care of your lost little child 

Wash him clean in the rain 

It's ok 

Somewhere inside I agreed to all of this 

Because I knew I could find my way 

Even that far down in the fettered dark spirals 

 

I never deserved it 

But none the less through it I have learnt

to tend that eternal fire burning within 

it doesn't belong to me or anyone

I am burnt up too 

and made new 

 

Her mysterious ways all embedded within my making

 

Oh I am so much stronger 

I lay claim to this crucible 

Of molten gold 

My feet know the way

​​

​

​

H u m m i n g  T a p e s t r y

 

I am happy

the monsters are real

 

real and can be battled with;

sent to their realms

my body is not their territory

 

I am happy, because there is order

the patterns of nature speak of law

 

Having transgressed it

and suffered real consequences

I have learnt that humans are not at the center

 

a good thing to know

 

Nature is spirited

with spectrums of beings

 

Allowing the feeling

the listening

the vision

the door opens to walk through

 

[A path not well trodden by

recent ancestors

but still there]

 

the fertile coalescing of voices 

that do not carry our language

 

the intricate weave

ecosystems of beings

bringing about the next generations

with each other

 

the library of leaves

transmuting golden sunlight

to dark fertile soil

 

I see now

the trees are the original alchemists

Masters, who embody the craft in reverse

turning golden sunlight to dark matter

full of potential

 

Death and decay 

enrich her body

giving life to new seeds

The young birds take flight

 

If we remembered 

we would not allow

the masochistic misjudgment

of putting ourselves at the center

blindly clinging to 

the entrails of empire

 

We have a place

we might find it

if we work to see

from a different place of

How will this serve me

 

Taking on the trends of dominators

our inheritance is poverty of spirit

accustomed to living in exile

from the humming tapestry

that hold all our parts

 

The great eldership 

of Nature

 

We cannot see so far ahead

but we can mend and tend our threads

paying attention 

to the pictures and patterns

we weave

​​

​

​

​

B l o o d  T r e e

 

I feel you torn open

and I came to be here 

to reside here 

this wild little hill, this sanctuary

because of injustice 

 

my ancestors  

part of the wave of conquerors

violence and pillage

armies and monarchy, hierarchies

deep in their blood

 

being here

this little bit of bush

that I vehemently defend

for it to be its own self

moss growing over the fallen trees

native grasses and strange bright mushrooms

black bark from the fire that burnt the old house

and turned my grandmother teenage world to ash

wild flowers, orchids, orange butterflies

 

Talking to me with their intricate integrity

 

The birds have this place;

Tiny wrens and robins darting 

Crows and kookaburras, cockatoos

Fill the air with their calls

The little lizards, the metropolis of anthills

I am a guest 

welcomed to be my wild self

 

In that welcome

I am grieving 

for the people of his place

so much loss

I cannot begin to know

 

My ancestors people 

had it backwards

their perceived superiority

the most damaging thing

 

Traumatised children 

bringing up children

With monstrous toys

monstrous games

making wonderful progress 

in this magnificent mess

 

No initiation to know their custodial role

my ancestors, and most of the human world

Putting themselves at the center

they lost their meaningful connection

 

Underneath 

I feel a timeless system

more than memory, more than human

it lives

the deepest culture 

communing with the land

 

Elders buried on elders, 

their knowledge under us

under the sickly scar

 

Somewhere in my ancestry 

lives a memory

to behold life as sacred

Knowing the healing plants

land once abundant with creatures 

still whispering;

The unmoving forests’ ghost

 

On this wild hill

through the fog

with no more than longing

I reach across starry skies 

seen centuries ago

to those in my blood tree

to those who remember the intricacy

 

bringing them through

is all I can do

​​

​

​

A w e n 

 

Invisible hands have moved me

to this simple alter

this nest

a small group waiting 

we sing a wordless lament

to reach the haunted hills,

our ancestors 

not buried to rest

 

As we sang we saw

the words come for them to hear

the tunes change

some tiny miracle 

in etheric ears

to send them on

 

There appeared a river

 

At our side,

ancestors well and wise

over the great divide

of this deep sorrow

 

We set them off 

with sweet sad tears

on woven wicker rafts

 

after them flowers 

and more 

flowers for the children

yet to come 

to remember them

but not know their sorrow

 

the river of time

remembering

murmuring though all language 

and none

 

the wailing rivers

bloodlines of pain

sung to again

sung to again

 

and then that ancestor 

who helped me came

moving me 

to the place of ritual 

invisible hands 

stroking my head

my hair, anointing me

lovingly 

pouring flower water over me

washing me 

again and again

 

bringing me home

healing my vertebrae

one at a time

then she gave me a bundle of bones

 

we laid them in a circle

under the oak tree

 

and inside formed 

a well of water, fire, void

all at once

You cannot get in but 

sit by it 

 she told me

 

This invisible fountain

this mist

this spark

might fall into you

so we are not so in the dark

​

​

​

​

O f  L o v e

 

I am the stars

that speak over eons

With light that shines 

that may already be extinguished

 

I am the scent of a rose 

The soft velvet petals 

nestling on my face

Messing up their sweet geometry

 

I am my children’s eyes 

sparkling when I meet their hearts

And make them laugh

their teeth through gaps glinting

 

I am the little flame 

that knows no time 

no difference from the fire 

that has forever been burning

​

​

​

​