What price freedom

There was no scarf across face

No end of pointed gun or knife

That demanded or else

Just a new kind of tyranny

a barrier of arrogance

of privilege

unashamed

mocking

unmoving

for the freedom he thinks he represents.

In the smile on his young face

moored, this unfathomably legacy

this “great” era,

where hate masquerades as freedom

an assumed privilege,

without boundaries

without responsibility.

a dawn bird

Sea child

I’ve just returned from the South-West.  I based myself in Busselton and travelled around within a 100 km radius.  At dusk I walked the 1.7 km jetty and tried not to get blown off in the stiff breeze.  Like others, I stood as sunset and watched it, like I had never seen one before when a little girl caught my eye.  This post is for her and to those who bring joy to others unexpectedly.  The sequence of photographs is how I saw it.DSCN0118.jpgDSCN0119.jpgDSCN0120.jpgDSCN0117.jpg

Sea Child

Along a strip where sand meets the sea

a little girl plays tag

dipping her toes in

she races away

as the sea chases her unexpectedly

She returns once more

to do it again

a game of chicken, with the sea

this time the sea claims victory

she concedes

arms billowing, she spins in the breeze

throwing her head back with laughter

I watch this child of joy

listening, seeing, touching,

breathing in, senses alive

alone in a crowd, by the sea

yet connected to all

she dances in the space where,

with you, I yearn to be.

A dawnbird