The sound of the desert
moving in the vibrations
from many components.
Shades of nature sound
in this ancient place
to bring hidden things
towards the surface.
The sounds of music play in
the middle of nowhere
bring feelings of somewhere.
Sounds of ancient times
never lost, yet always
as she plays for him.
You are so far away
over there somewhere,
someplace I’ve never seen.
“The forest is alive here”,
you say to me from so far away.
“I can see the photos,
yet I can’t be there with you.”
“Come, be with me, here.”
That is your dream, not mine;
My dream is here in this land.
You love your dream.
I love my dream;
Surely, there’s a way
to merge the two.
I didn’t hear
from you yesterday.
I dropped our
favourite fruit bowl.
I watched it smash into
so many pieces.
I found out today you died
in the forest
yesterday afternoon my time;
a heart attack.
Now I’m travelling to you.
It took your death to bring
our dreams together,
if only for a short time.
A splash of organised colour
behind closed eerie fences.
A splash of purple flowers
lonely, isolated, and alone.
A window sill so far away,
where a flower
sits on Mum’s window sill.
Dancing rubiginous leaves,
moving towards their death;
a colourful display of life.
We step amongst the leaves,
along the Melbourne streets.
Wishing we were also the leaves,
dancing without any inhibitions;
Knowing that life is too short.
Tall trees hide many birds,
as we walk into the forest.
Unfamiliar bird chattering,
puts our quiet time to rest.
Onward we go dreaming,
wishing for the old times.
We spread out rugs, food;
looking up, down, around.
A bird pounces: one, two;
bread slices disappearing.
Another bird pounces soft;
fruit pieces are vanishing.
We nibble on what is left,
photographing the birds.
Leaves turn red, yellow and brown
fluttering in the Autumn winds.
A leaf moves from the Petiole
on the wind,
and collides with your face.
Dry leaf feelings on your skin
reminding you nature is real.
There are no sunshine feelings between
the leaf and skin, yet you take the leaf,
put it between the pages of your book,
and take it home.
Leaves dying on their leaf stalks,
floating off, they move freely in the wind
more alive now the air has captured them,
to take them on an adventure.
Something of the seawater flows through
the human sitting on the chair writing.
Something of sadness flows through the
seawater as your arteries unclog and flow
clean again after so many lost loved ones.
Shimmering colours of the sea move before
you, filling your empty places and making
you whole until you no longer have cracks.
More beautiful than before, you
have been touched by Kintsugi.
Flaws once a burden to you become your
beauty and set you apart from the others.
Lights play tricks on my eyes.
Tired, I see colours and shapes.
Your moon has gone from the sky,
leaving only the stars to haunt me.
I wait for your moon to return
in the silence of cold nights sleeping,
dreaming of piano keys playing a song
as we spin wildly around a Chateau
with no furniture to obstruct our moves.
The lights play tricks on my eyes.
Tired, I thought I saw you in the corner.
Silenced in the garden from all the
things they could have said, yet didn’t.
A reluctance to accept his proposal left
everyone in sunshine except for her –
she felt the jitters of no love
the pain of forced marriage.
Far off, where land meets the sky, colours
of what is correct will be waiting,
yet they cannot be seen by her eyes;
her vision is too clouded by swirling feelings.
Perceptions of what is real and what is fake
flash fast before or behind her soft eyes.
A call from him jolts her into the present,
as a decision must be made or never
spoken of in hushed or screamed tones.
Looking at the place where the sky meets land,
she sees the colours that matter to her the most;
The colours of something completely different.
So she walks in the opposite direction from
the garden in haste without speaking a word.
To run is the coward’s way,
yet to fight for love requires a clean break
from this garden she loved so much as a child;
she must run so fast,
as the wind moves her onwards to disappear.
Cluttered and bundled in the snow,
so still, as the effects of defeat set in.
Take from you only yesterday,
yet it’s been more than a year.
Sweet faces appear behind your eyes
to haunt your day and night dreams.
Cracks start to appear within you,
as your heart begins to break apart.
The person of all those years ended sharply,
now replaced by something very different.
Alone in the snow, you slowly rise to feel
the weight of the wild wind altering you.
Different now, you walk from the woods
back to that home now yours for good.
Their cries won’t bring your heart back
for it has turned
to something colder than snow –