I am lifted by the silence
that settles in the evening,
that hovers in the stillness
on the edge of spring;
And then on the branch above me,
silhouette against the sky,
a bellbird quietly lands,
softly starts to sing.
I am disciplined and I’m tough
I’m watching for cars on the road
until I have seen enough,
I ain’t looking for nothing that
I’ve not already found,
we are gathered in the evening
on the edge of the town
Fire red behind the mountain,
clouds shoot flame and ash
into the dying of the day;
and Burnett stands a black
fortress, an evening silhouette,
holding the fire at bay,
and we sit in its shadow,
silenced in its presence and
there is little that words can say.
The individual that I am
feels the sun on my skin,
shivers in the rain, tells
my own story, sings
my own song, writes
words about what I
believe, where I belong
and where I come from;
why do you fear me?
In this culture of fear
we are driven into the arms
of the glorious mother state,
we are given stars to wear,
anthems to sing and flags
to wave; no longer are we
me and you; rather we are
made to be one of them.
I would love for you to see
me now, in this valley of
bush and mountain and dirt
road. I have known you all
these years and I would love
for you to know me here,
contented on the edge of the
silver, shimmering estuary;
twenty years on and I see
you still.
Each one of these last
twenty years has slowly
let you go, sepia-toned your
memory and taken the colour
from your eyes; but even now
I find it so hard to let then
take you from me; in fact,
I refuse to give them leave
to do so. I miss you still,
I always will.
The wind can be heard
picking up speed as it
rolls down the valley,
swinging through the
boughs of the tall trees;
it bangs against the windows
of the small house and is
lost in the dust as it scampers
down the gravel road.
Red flames in a slow dance
behind the clear glass of the
wood burner, offer a warm
embrace against the cold
face of a winter’s evening.