We won’t need to praise change
Hung on tippytoes like the vine and the native wood
immolating across the net and barbed wire
Sided by burnt yellow, brushed with life, the memory of a fatherland can be healed.
The notion —
That we most truly love the boundaries we fail to see
An ancient light multiplies, an optical illusion of forgetfulness
& forgettable become the steam, the fire, the electricity.
To cherish this land, I aspire. Not by blood born, not cast by mother: the fox and the ‘roo. The square light framed by the eucalyptus, the disinviting spider and its fast web.
About the Creator
Squeeze D' Avocado
Asterion, Jess, Avo, and all the other ghosts.
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