A Ramble Through the Things that Happen in a Day

First, a poem about my place.

Place

Copyright 2016 Cage Dunn

Cool air swirls, lifts, settles. Red sun peeps over the horizon, chases the cool, breathes its scorch into the air, onto the earth – parches skin, eyes, lungs.

Sounds awake, shrubs droop, grasses whisper, locusts ratchet.

Birds, unseen, declare territory. Kangaroos, visible, lie down, scratch at the ground, scratch at fur, chitter at joeys, lick paws, rest.

The day wakes, sky moves from black to blue, from red to purple, from dark to light.

Dust floats, sashays its way through the haze,

Settles, rises, dances; dares the day to burn it away.

Red earth, red dust, red kangaroos.

Grey shimmers, grey emus, grey lizards.

The desert awakens, full of life, lifeless, aware.

 

 

Some days are meant to remind us of the things that are bigger than us.

Some days are meant to be forgotten. When a loved one dies, a child or a parent or a partner. A beloved pet, also part of our family, our community. No, not forgotten – kept for personal use only, suffused behind other things; a private place where only you can feel it, see it, be one with the emotional parcel. It is never truly an alone moment; we re-feel these things when we see someone else in the same place, the same pain. We feel – our own and theirs. We share, and in the sharing, we ease a little of each of us.

Some days are pure joy, the moment when the sun hits the flicker of spider-web, the diamond fracture of colours; how it catches your eye with the promise of brighter things; when a child laughs with outrageous guffaws; when the world does something good, worthwhile.

Remember the one person who stood up to an army in a square?

The person who not just spoke of forgiveness, but demonstrated the forgiveness to the world, and his torturers?

The one child who walked up to the homeless person and gave away the scarf and gloves that kept the cold at bay.

 

Make more of those days – the good days, the ones we not only want to share, we want others to share with us; the ones we want to hoard, to keep the pain until we have time to dig at it, to make sure we still live with the loss; the ones that show we are human, can empathise and demonstrate to our community that we are worthy of our place.

 

Today is one of those days, and I’m off to chat to ‘that one’ up there.