Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Memories Live Here

Memories Live Here

Memories Live Here

Her favourite table sat under a three bay window in her bedroom
in summer she opened the windows early
 usually 6.30, enjoying her morning coffee
 to the accompaniment of birds and insects
 the not so distant highway muffled by a strand of thick untidy bush...

With the curtains pulled open
the morning sun filters onto the table
 through an overhanging native tree
 splashing in patchy patterns
 that blended with the jumble of colour on the table’s top
 Many years ago she had decoupaged the top
with photos of her family mixed up with other pictures
 – trees, crystals, flowers, shaman,  fish, frogs, and other earthy elements...

The table had become a good conversation starter
 all who sat at it felt drawn into the story the pictures told
 a tapestry that illustrated  her beliefs
 the things she felt passionate about,
an elucidation that spotlighted through her outer shell
and bared her soul for all to see...

As such the table was sometimes covered
for there were times...certain people... she didn’t share with
 but not often...
some items permanently reside on the top...
 a ceramic hand her daughter made her
that always holds a candle
 yellow at the moment
layers of coloured wax dribble down over the hand
so much over the years that the hand has disappeared
 She burns the candle every night
so family and friends see it flickering in the window
and know that she is home...

Many times she has had it burning through the day
 her silent prayer to victims of brutality
or the wrath of nature
 September 11 saw it burn for 11 days
 Bali 8 days,
the tsunami of Christmas 2004-5
 she had the candle burning for a week ...
Other things reside there
 usually an assortment of pens, books and paperwork
 her glasses, ashtray and more recently a mobile phone
 The predictable cup of coffee is always there
in various states of warmth
 along with her tobacco pouch...
 As each morning progresses
 the sun makes its way in a curving arch up the windows
until the crystals catch it
 sprinkling rainbow reflections onto the table
 and into the room...

Her cat, a fat black egocentric snob
likes the cool hard surface of the tabletop
 and she has an on-going struggle with him
 over his right to lay there...
 She moves him several times a day
only to turn around and find him there
 snoozing contentedly
She moves him repeatedly until finally he gives in
 going to sleep somewhere else
 usually the wooden chest in the front room...
Friends have laughed and cried at the table...
 Raged tirades at the injustices of the world
 whispered secrets and shared life...
 It has endured four moves and many different rooms
 but always tells the same story-
welcome to those who sit with peace in their soul
 good intentions in their heart
and an open unprejudiced mind...

Monday, February 14, 2011

Earthy Vibrations….

Earthy Vibrations….
I don’t know why I decided to walk across the Nullarbor Plain;
it was the late seventies, I was 17 years old
and it just seemed like the right thing to do at the time;
I had spent the seventies traveling with my parents
and had circumnavigated Australia a number of times,
the bush was no stranger to me,
so traveling on to major capital cities such as Adelaide or Melbourne
had felt like the scarier option.
I did not know much about cities or city life then
and although the Nullarbor route also led to a city
it was smaller and more colonial;
at least back then it was more colonial,
these days it’s a bustling city, port and international gateway.
Spreading along the beautiful west coast
Perth is the capital of Western Australia,
one of our more remote and vaster states.
There was no real reason for heading to Perth
other than the way offered a quieter path
and it was not until I had spent a few days
and nights walking and camping
that I began to notice subtle changes were taking place,
mostly within myself.
I noticed that my soul seemed calmer and quieter,
that the bottled-up tension and hostilities
were dissipating with each step;
my mind was less chaotic and more observant.
My surroundings slowly changed
with each unwavering footfall that echoed on the road
and I began to see more clearly; almost too clearly.
I thought I could see and feel a faint humming luminance
vibrating around each tree and plant,
often merging and overlapping
to form new colors and vibrations.
I had experienced something like this once before
when camped on the edge of a desert;
the undulating sand-ripples caused by an ever-present wind
hypnotized and bewitched me…
I fancied I heard the heartbeat of the very earth itself,
the red desert sand seemed to glow like fire.
I walked through the long silent days and into each night
medicated by nature’s soft soothing melody;
birds followed my path dipping and darting from tree to tree
swooping high into the sky in the open patches that broke up the bush.
When I stepped over their invisible border they would turn back,
skimming through branches with practiced ease
and other birds would take up the role
of guide or guardian.….
At night the sky was silky and soft,
as dark and shiny as ebony and brilliantly lit;
a warm breeze ruffled the trees
and created currents of dust that eddied around tree trunks
and swirled through the bare patches.
I wasn’t scared; I didn’t think there was anything to be frightened of,
so I slept soundly under the cover of night
and woke each morning to a dazzling new dawn.
I discovered a lot about my blossoming young self on that long walk;
I learnt that I actually didn’t mind my own company;
that silence didn’t have to be filled,
rather it should be respected and fostered and listened to;
I learnt that trees have a life energy of their own
and that the earth resonates with hushed vibrations.
I felt at home.
More at home in a sleeping bag on the dirt
then I ever felt, in the years that followed
when I shared a city with a million others.
When I knew that I was close to the sea
I veered off the road,
picking my way through stubby bush and stunted trees.
I heard and smelt and felt the ocean
long before I reached the rocky cliff that dropped into the broiling waves.
With surprising nerve, for I do have a slight fear of heights,
I approached the edge of the cliff;
far below powerful waves thundered onto large smooth boulders,
spraying up and raining back down with a regular surging backwash.
The earth shivered with delight.
That night the moon seemed to be ringed with a soft saffron nimbus
of incandescent light that skimmed across the ocean like a beacon.
It was a bright night;
good for traveling,
but I felt captivated and did not want to leave.
The leaves murmured a soft lullaby,
accompanied by the deeper rumble of the rhythmic waves
as they crashed onto the rocks far below,
I closed my eyes and fell into a deep and peaceful sleep
with the moon as my nightlight and the stars my guardians.

Answering the Echoes of My Inner Voice

Answering the Echoes of My Inner Voice

My troubled thoughts seem clearer tonight; though still plagued in a way by my own thoughts and feelings … I now feel an inner strength building in me…. Not so much troubled anymore… curious, would be more apt… curious about my future… intrigued as to whether it will unfold as I hope… interested in my sudden shift from futility to a wary acceptance of whatever may come my way…. Still a little restless… unsettled… but not troubled…. I’ve survived all these years, haven’t I…. one would think I’ve picked up few truisms along the way…

… and so what if the mask is crumbling…. To hell with wearing it for one more moment… to hell with hiding… here I am world… take me as you find me ‘cos I’m my own woman… and I have a life to live
adventure to breath… love and laughter and honesty to be shared…
And I’m not too old to take a chance… damn it, I’m never going to be too old to take a chance….
I want to be taking chances now and when I’m 60… 70 …. 80… 100
or until my lungs draw their last breath and my breasts rise and fall for the last time …

I don’t care if I’m not poised, self-assured, self-confident… don’t give damn if I’m battered and bruised from youthful indulgences and addictions… I still have NO illusions about this carcass that
houses the soul… but the hidden me… the me not seen from the outside… that me is more graceful and caring and compassionate than at any stage in the past…. And knowledgeable in ways
a younger woman would not… could not understand….

I have been loved… adored- bless his sweet patient country soul…. though much of the time
he didn’t understand me… couldn’t fathom the depth of my mind…was puzzled by the meanderings
of my thoughts and emotions… but he always loved me…. Always…. Until the angels, if such beings exist, came and took him away…

I’m at ease with this me I am now…. Wise enough to consider youthful misadventures as ‘learning’ experiences… after all I’m not on drugs, I don’t drink alcohol…well one or two wines a year  …I haven’t been arrested in 30 years….and my conscience isn’t heavy with the knowledge of breaking too many hearts…. So I must have learnt something from those wild and hedonistic days….

So I don’t have that little cottage I’ve always dreamed of…and I haven’t travelled overseas…. but there’s time yet for both to happen…I’m not the published writer I envisioned as an idealistic young woman who though she could change the world with her words… or at least challenge global masses to move beyond their scripted lives…. But…. I do still write 6 out of 7 days and do have a circle of writer friends to socialise with… what does it matter if we’ve never met… still the possibility of being published exists and therefore so does that dream….
…the funny thing is… if only Destiny Fate and Karma stopped trying to outdo each other
(thereby cancelling out each other’s actions) Well… perhaps they’d realise that if I became published
I might have a shot at buying  my little cottage and travelling overseas as well…
…but I have a more immediate goal to concern myself with
…that of surviving a new and unexpected change....
I recently  found myself out of work
and since I live where I work, at the end of the month I will be relocating
to another area… will look for work… and place to live…. And plan my future;

I’ll tell you one thing though… if Destiny, Fate and Karma don’t get there shite together soon
I’m taking them for a long jump off a short pier;
11 Feb. 11

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Apathy of the Masses

Apathy of the Masses

walks the streets-
seedy sullen….a  listless throng…
apathy reigns
vacuous eyes
that say nothing-

don’t look at me!
…. wont someone
please …please…notice me…

a few…. just a few rare few
shades of blissful hues
amid the wretched

in dismal corners
the weary and desolate hide their pain
and behind closed eyes
…. they dream…
…they dream….
the same as you or I
and in their way they do as we do
get through each day and somehow
 just survive…
8 Feb., 11

Surreal Reality

Surreal Reality

on the back steps
morning coffee
strong and sweet…
the country air
soft and scented…
native birds oblivious
to my passage thru time…
my thoughts wander and wonder
it feels so surreal
my reality…
chaos reigns, somewhere
and children cry…
a mother, somewhere
refuses to face the  day
without her child…
a father, somewhere
gives up… takes out a gun
…and gives up …

While I sit in morning silence
country air soft and scented
on my face…
8/2/2011 1:20 PM

Stories in My Keeping

Stories in My Keeping

The night sits softly in my eyes tonight
…I’m glad the sun has set at last
if only my wayward thoughts were sleeping
… so many stories in my keeping…

I met him so many years ago
…I was a younger me…
who I no longer know
he was sitting by the railway line
all he owned tied up with twine…

on his lap a book of Dylan
opened at a certain page
he looked at me with such wisdom
that spoke volumes of his age…

we talked the afternoon away
just this gentle man and I
till the sun began slowly setting
in a distant western sky..

then he recited in deep warm tones
words that follow where ‘ere I roam-
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.”

then he looked at me spoke
in a voice akin a song…
I know the time is coming soon
in truth I am ready for that day
when I won’t wake from my final sleeping
go now… my stories are in your keeping…