TWO EDGED
The seas
peaks volumes
touching the sky
yet
whispering at my feet
licking my toe-nails
drawing
fear
and
anticipation
together
God touching
my edges
(Kata-Tjuta- The Olgas)
Clocks have no meaning
in the Valley of the Winds;
rocks stand unmoved
measuring not hours
but centuries.
Like dice thrown round
by a giant at play
they nestle as pebbles
in villages.
Rock domes
defined so clearly
are sunbaking
against cobalt sky.
A paradox of ghost gums
unafraid to be seen
strip naked to white
against blushing orange.
A whisper of wind
fingers my cheek
but my ears cannot catch
its secrets.
DISARMED
To the untrained eye
all soldiers look the same
- a mass of uniform
humanity
distinguished
(or not)
by the shape
of a helmet
or colour
of cloth.
Who is my friend ?
Who is my enemy?
But
strip off
a weapon
knock off
a helmet
dis-mantle
a soldier
piece by piece
and what is left?
A human being?
A human
no longer being?
To be
sent home
in peace?
DOWN BY THE SHED
Down by the shed
the boy
nearly a man
hovers on the brink…
one last fling
then
they head for home…
the boy
the dog
and the frisbee
Janette Fernando