A forgotten beginning
Rising out from the dust as it casts upward in flight upon a storm’s arrival,
the clinkering sounds to chattering bricks fill the air as her feet bolt
along a deserted laneway.
Here in a long-since-forgotten town beneath blue sky for company
where sparse wildflowers litter the cracks between broken cobblestone and pavement, as weatherboards clad to once-past homes reside tilted,
turned askew beneath their rooves, grappling
with their oblique stumps as if to exhale would mean their last.
Still her feet pound through a man-made crippled earth,
while the bitter wind takes its bite upon her scant stumble for survival,
Spinifex seeds strip, cut at every step taken in billowing rant,
so fine pulses these driven dust and sands resentful of gravity.
To be met by fresh glancing blows in reckless thrashes,
chains bearing charged light, their struggle furore
bent wild upon ground and sky, failing to
slow her fervour to push on, lungs strained,
her beating heart pulses, a will to outrun the tide.
When wall upon wall, liquid darts, arrows, spears;
rain hurled by the winds chasing time, to weigh
heavy in the never-ending broken silence as
her strides slow rapid in the instant, sliding
to a complete and unceremonious standstill.
Her will braves her intuition, screams from within
her soul in every part of her being, soaked
by challenges to a moment’s stall in thought,
her head wheels about as on instinct such does body
follow, each foot, each stride propels her face first
back into the storm, back along a gutted laneway
filling with water where hailstones begin to hurtle.
When in full flight her outline vanishes inside an
ever-growing density in jagged frozen water,
a cry aloud, then silence, just silence in each collision,
as wild ice shatters in minutes to pass, such a storm
dissolves, revelling into distance’s expanse.
Standing motionless, battered, bruised, bleeding, with hair about her face,
while slow, contorted bolts, twisted chunks of ice melt beneath her feet,
as mind and heart wait, contemplate a new direction, a bearing of choice.
When her feet turn to the East, as she departs unrestricted,
crossing each deserted laneway, until part ways within
a broken lost beauty about this forgotten town,
a place people said will always stand. Her feet stop,
reaching down, placing her hand into the ice-cold water,
Kate of the Wild Sea-Rose lifts out a wildflower afloat,
cast adrift in temporary currents to a storm’s great melt.
To raise it almost to eye level, as her mind takes hold
breathing in the scent while walking to the edge of town,
where a young boy with his dog at the cusp of the forest’s wild,
waits for her attention and, with its roots still intact,
Kate plants it once more into the now-moist
earth brought by storm’s tarnished surround.
Then without looking back, Kate, the young boy and his dog,
walk out into the beyond, deep into the Wild,
until they vanish from sight. Making for the sea.