Read narratorAUSTRALIA Volume One Page 34


  * Gaba means white man. Werriberri was the last tribal Chief of the Gundungurra Aborigines of the Blue Mountains

   

  Tuesday 3 July 2012 4 pm

  Dispirited

  Joe Massingham

  Chisholm, ACT

  And then the white fellas come

  and try to break our spirits. The

  older spirits run and hide from

  sticks that crack and smoke,

  leaving us alone and fearful,

  so we call upon the spirits in

  the bottle to give us strength.

  At first it seems they do but

  by ’n by new spirits come

  and eat you from the inside out,

  like the rot that eats out the trees,

  until you’re left, an empty husk

  with no clear memory of the

  past and no clear vision for

  the future. All you have

  is being here and now,

  an empty bottle, a fire of

  burning embers, with mangy

  dogs and waiting crows

  for company.

   

  Wednesday 4 July 2012

  I Will Call It Solace

  Irene Assumpter

  East Victoria Park, WA

  Good or bad, religious or not, I believe everything happens for a reason.

  I will call it solace, not fate.

   

  Things happen to make you stronger.

  To make you a better person.

  To help you wake up – because you have slept enough – or simply sleep more, because some things are best left alone.

  To tell you when to (gently) press the ‘ignore’ button. To help you know a normal human being can’t possibly please everybody.

   

  To stop you from making a mistake.

  To cry. To let go.

  To help you learn from past mistakes. To tell you life has never been perfect.

  To make amends. To grow.

   

  To smile. To laugh. To love. To cherish.

  To help you count your blessings. For a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.

  To help you evaluate who and what really matters in life.

  To help you know and appreciate your true friends.

   

  Things happen to help you collect stones and find your diamond among them ... for we all have our diamonds.

  To separate the wheat from the chaff ... oh the chaff has got to go. The wind needs something to do.

   

  But sometimes, many times, we don’t know why some things happen.

  Maybe that’s just it – to help you not know. To stop speculating.

  That has to be solace, not fate.

   

  Life brings misery, happiness, unsolicited lessons ... surprises et cetera et cetera.

   

  Because I can’t speculate any more,

  I’ll assume there is an overwhelming, higher authority beyond the stars.

  One that gives and takes life,

  One that is beyond human understanding.

  I’ll just assume he or she gets those mood swings we all have.

  I will baptise this. This profound feeling. This sense of defeat.

   

  I will keep quiet about it.

  And when I speak, I will call it solace.

  ‘I Will Call It Solace’ is for Jenipher Kirasia Odawo, a strong African woman whose demise continues to make no sense. A sweetheart whose treasured memory keeps us on our toes.

   

  Thursday 5 July 2012 8 am

  Is

  Robertas

  Drummoyne, NSW

  How thin is is?

  Between was

  and will be.

   

  A membrane

  thin to vanishing.

  A nothingness.

  But everything.

   

  Is exists

  else nothing does.

   

  Our lives

  a moving plane

  of is.

   

  A two-dimensional

   

  emptiness

   

  more full

  than all that was.

   

  More real

  than all to come.

   

  Robertas likes poetry short and sweet. This is one idea for the reader to ponder.

   

  Thursday 5 July 2012 4 pm

  Green Eyes In Afghanistan

  Sandra Renew

  Dickson, ACT

  We claim the blood of Alexander.

  In a brown-eyed country

  our eyes are blue and green.

  We were here when

  Alexander crossed the Hindu Kush.

  We were here when opportunistic Russians

  fought their way through the Salang Pass

  and into Kabul.

  We were here when America

  invaded our mountains.

   

  We were here when Alexander

  passed on by,

  and when we sent the Russians home.

  We will be here

  when the West withdraws its missions.

  All we have to do is wait,

  and you will be gone.

   

  Alexander left us his green eyes.

  The Russians left us education without poetry.

  America is leaving us

  a breath of a modern world

  to unsettle our youth.

  But in the end, you will be gone.

  All we have to do is wait.

   

  Our people went to Alexander’s world,

  to Russian universities,

  and to the diasporas in Scandinavia and the West.

  They will not come home.

  And, in the end, you will be gone.

  All we have to do is wait.

   

  Friday 6 July 2012 8 am