Why live in winter
in that desolate space
where alone in a landscape
is a crowd
where the wind bites
and leaves no scars
where water no longer gurgles
with delight at your touch
but lies frozen and stagnant
while you wait for spring
for the thaw
that may never come.
a dawn bird
On a cool autumn morn
I opened the window
to let the sunrise in
stretched, and caressed
summer on my skin
still brown and fragrant
as a cinnamon quill
a dawn bird
In response to Pic and a Word Challenge #178 – sunrise
The Robyn Gordon blooms all year
just outside the door
as beauty often does
and with each breath I take
I fill that lingular space
where you once were.
a dawn bird
It was summer twenty four hours ago
my skin is still burnished brown
the dawn sun ignites a signal lamp
and spells in code,
slow down.
My girth is too wide for embrace
but where my wisdom is kept
I am matriarch
alive among sapling and dead wood
I am old, as I am young again
Come closer, yes, closer
lean in
hear my autumn song.
a dawn bird
(In response to the RDP word, diametric)
Nature speaks a language
in seasons, and
much like love
what falls away, renews
so from the shards of summer
a fire in my heart has been lit
to keep you warm in autumn.
a dawn bird
Your memory no longer lives within me
the air I breathe is no longer shared,
giving life to the walking dead with each breath
our journey ended, when mine began
Reborn, I woke one day
taking my first breath among trees
and holding me close to her bosom
Mother Nature smiled indulgently
The air I breathe now,
is sweeter than early morning
when I wake to birdsong, my silence
and find diamonds in the garden,
the ones you never had a chance to give me.
a dawn bird
He was a freedom fighter
to me, he was a rebel
to others, a soldier
to my parents, he was trouble
I was barely sixteen,
he, a few years older
we met at a party
fun was what I was after, and so was he
My parents watched with consternation
as things progressed too far
they were wise, cautioned softly, go slow
of course, at sixteen, it was advice I would ignore
At night I’d slip out the back door
to the intimacy of an empty park
somehow I’d find my freedom fighter
with cigarette tip glowing in the dark
He’d kiss me with a passion
I remember to this day
he promised me the world
If we left my hometown and ran away
In the company of friends
we would talk politics, knee deep in the car
I knew little about what he fought for
Yearning only the kind of freedom, I fought for
I once asked him if he’d choose his country or me
He looked at me intently saying
(as only a freedom fighter would)
If your country was wiped off the map
What would you do?
He had fought for his country
at an age when I didn’t know what that meant
But I loved his passion for fight
at a time when I was fighting for independence
Surrendering, my parents gave in
it was the lesser evil of the two
so they let me pack up and leave
all that I knew and loved, behind
He wept when I left him
the train pulled away, I opened his gift
I held it in my hand and smiled
as only a 16 year old would
It was a pendant, a bullet on a chain
Something I would never wear
a premonition of things to come
and yet, I didn’t care
Years later, I heard he was living in the USA
Married with children, he lives a staid life
This morning I know with conviction,
I did the right thing then.
Yes, my parents were right,
he never knew me at all
he may have been a freedom fighter once
but a staid life was not the freedom I fought for
a dawn bird
I woke at dawn the other morning
the kitchen was flooded with light
I stood at the window and watched
a sequin, embellish the velvet night
There was no coffee in hand to remind me
of the distant past
when we stood conversing silently,
no questions asked
In those moments,
we owned eternity
life was larger than life itself
oh! the unbridled audacity
how young we were!
we said so much more in silence,
than words could ever say
I know now, always is but a moment
that moment, is today
When
I stood still at the window and waited
and so what if it took years and a day?
for the the wan moon to brighten
and for the supermoon to take her place.
a dawn bird
It’s eighteen years and a day
My grief has come of age
So the boxes are packed
I’m giving your clothes away
The shirt I wore at dawn
Those grey socks kept my feet warm
your jacket is empty
the sleeves, too, of hugs.
Your touch, your taste is elusive
your absence takes up less space
I no longer lie in bed and wait
you nudging at my ribs
whispering, Hey! You awake?
It’s eighteen years and a day
yes, my grief has come of age
In that darkest space there is a celebration
as angel wings sprout
and thoughts of you lift me up
How proud you would have been
Against all odds,
I have lived to say
your memory brings joy as always
but you should also know, there are nights
Oh! how I wish you were with me again.
a dawn bird
At dawn, warmed by bed
I walk through a garden of words
the one you plant each day
stay a while
inhale the perfume
and from a bed of roses,
pluck a passion flower
to bloom in my heart
where it stays
unchallenged by reality
we dream in words
to say, the unsaid.
a dawn bird
The note said, “I’m leaving”
destination, unknown
bags packed and neatly stored
by the front door
I remember the moment well
unafraid, you stepped into the night
and the world trembled as you walked.
I was silenced by your instinct
turned my back on your gamble
after all, what dialect does one use
to reason with this foolish wager
I had too much to lose to watch you win
I stepped aside, always an adult, never a player.
in this game of chance called life.
But truth be told,
I was in awe of your audacity
I followed the footprints you left in my heart
biding my time
until now
I have the courage of a gambler
the curiosity of an explorer
I am a linguist,
I can speak the unspoken now
I can stare you down
or so I thought.
Last night I took my place
as you threw the dice
our eyes met, fortune flipped
your gaze softened
as I scooped the winnings
unaware you let me win
to become the woman I am now
a dawn bird
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 alchemy
At dawn or dusk
the shore lights up
showcasing sparkle
illuminating treaty
On textured canvas
no footprint marred
the way of would’ve been
left in debris
No words spoken,
just the imagery, in sea graffiti
the confirmation,
tide and time, waits for no man
but healing comes to those who seek it.
a dawn bird
Standing on a shard of memory
she watches ebb and flow
at the edge of sea and shore
she stands her ground
alone, in reverie.
a dawn bird
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.
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
A Shared Space 
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