Dedicated to my father with whom I spent many hours in silent companionship.
There was a little girl who once sat on her father’s knee And told him all about What she wanted to see and be She left his knee To fly the sky Her path brightly lit By the stars in her eyes The little girl became a young woman who found love that didn’t stay She wiped her tears away and picked up the pieces and from the fragments, she chose the best tesserae she joined them together with salt, blood and tears and through her fears, the pathway emerged the young woman grew wise by her father’s words find life, and life will find you, in silence she heard she looked over her shoulder periodically with a smile and the knowledge the adventure of the life, is not in the eye of the beholder ringside, at the gallery but in the hands of the artist that holds the glittering tesserae So she shared her views, through the lens of her eye The colours, the minutiae, the wide open spaces, the early morning reverie to honour his memory, because the gift left behind was not in what he said or did But instilling the belief in her that she could fly, and she did.
This morning I woke in a bed that was empty There was no one else there but me In that space of aloneness I filled it with memory Of all the things we shared, Of what was and the dreams that could never be While outside it rained, bibilically That purest water from the sky Overflowed the gutters, and flooded the ground In that gush of energy, baptised I lay quietly and listened to the sounds Of my heart beat faster than when you were around I realised society had conned people like me The message always loud and clear One is not a number, it is an anomaly two is what counts I felt my face break open, wider than my heart had done I rose from my bed slowly Slowly like from the dead And when I was standing firm Stronger on two feet I knew I had conquered my fear, found my voice, I started to write, for perpetuity You see society promotes unity We are mismatched jigsaw pieces Never whole, a match has to be found, for that pretty picture that reflects cultural norms to emerge that promotion, is an industry in that enlightened moment, I felt the surge I had always stood on sacred ground Of the journey, the belief that cliche missing piece that completes me Was never lost, it lay within me A treasure, dormant, waiting to be found I felt blessed for the courage, that companion that walked with me into the darkness and in the coldest recesses of my being left me with a lantern , the knowledge, the treasure is not me, but the savouring of aloneness, is where serenity is found.
I love it when I learn a new word. With so much information out there, it is a treat to scurry to the dictionary scratching my head thinking, what does that word mean! Thank you Brian, at bushboy.
Much like the lines in nature, my life is falling into line again. I feel well and happy to be productive, relatively pain free and looking forward to travelling and working full pace once more after spending most of the month of July at home. I’m nesting. Being kind to myself. Finding companionship in birds that have taken over my back garden and generally just glad to be going back to who I know I am. It’s a feeling of home like no other.
I loved the dark fronds and delicate lace wings.
I watched tiny honeyeaters sip rain drops from these leaf cups one morning.
I’m not a gardener so I’m not sure whether these should be in my garden ….
but I loved how beautiful the mushrooms looked when they ‘bloomed’.
Then there are those lines that take me to places so far away.
May you, too, seek and find adventure in each day.