Union

A picnic blanket on a summer Sunday
quiet jacaranda's lining streets of the capital
I was barely two,
catching small ladybirds with my grandmother
the world was lucky, magical
free from protest,
I believed no child would every need a protest.


that faraway long forgotten picnic
on the lawns of a once nostalgic building
came back today, under a smoking sweating sky
sodden, trodden jacaranda blossoms
young men and women, thousands
 determined, unwavering
I watch them, asking for freedom
the freedom to learn, the freedom to know
they are no picnic blankets now
just a conscious living breathing question
What are you doing inside those walls?
they are brave in the heated helicopter fuelled afternoon.

one day there will be doctors, learned minds
beautiful minds from this crowd
who worked and stood together for  education
one day there may be understanding in the glance of hindsight
now there is just the lawn of my long ago picnic
tear gassed, strewn with broken dreams and stones.

Father

You built a fortress for my protection

an emotional fort, holding my delicate heart

you made it stronger than steel
free from tragedy
free from humanity

you made large windows,

a view to the horizon

I stayed here, stayed safe

I looked out to the evening stars

with no fear.

15.10.15

Realist, analyst, questioner of the family

Humanity tires you, 

animals and toys suffice

Your observations are razor sharp

Light blonde no nonsense strength

Child of the undisturbed,

Born by the ocean

A light heart shining baby

A wide eyed child, world affected 

Your world is not day dreamed

My cerebral child

Your feet firm, as strong as your views, a finely tuned mind

You possess such an intensity of vision, therefore fear too much

An ancestry sets in you, beyond me

A canon on the farm, statues, pictures

You dissect them effortlessly, tirelessly

Cultivated by the farmland forest

Affection so hard won

Loyalty so stalwart

Your mother tries to meander, avoiding potholes

Slowly swerving for any bumps on your particular road.

Land Lighthouse

The days are long, seamless sunlit scenes

And then, abruptly, night

Darkness descends with force and speed

We are left floating in a land

Swimming underneath stars

Seeing nothing but the pin pricks of light above

Unexpectedly in the night

A faded consistent light 

On the horizon

Steady in its yellow comfort

A landmark far away

Signalling life in the night

A table lit for dinner

Familial discussion

A homestead in this lonely desert.

Middle Earth

It was mine,
Between the extreme land beyond the border
And the tamed land left behind
It belonged to me, as much as land can belong.

It was a temperate, beautiful, prospering place
Where seasons bloomed, fires burned, cattle walked
Tractors slowly frontiered the boundaries,
And at sunset, it was a kingdom,
Birds settled the day, stars came, and went
Moons waved, and went
Extremes came
Cold, rain for weeks
Green trees
Too many leaves
A mild mannered temperament kept within
Tea at dawn,
Slow movements, nest egg belonging
Hard to notice, smart to leave alone
A soft place,
Medium heat, well placed
Left to simmer
Forever

Framed

I mounted the painting
crows tossed by the wind
over the swaying wheat field
seeking an appropriate frame
a frame to hold these lonely wheat sheaves
these suspended birds