but the train has left the station

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I am Earth born

and steadily returning

dirt under my nails

dirt etched in wrinkles and seams

dirt leaf web in hair,

roots entwined with stringybark and kurrajong

limbs braced cradle nest feather egg

animated by wind and lightning,

a Song in my heart

a poem in my Soul.

 

danger is real, threats ever present

truth terrifying

scalding our hearts and minds.

 

islands of plastic expanding

soil leached of promise

artesian waters meet fracking

forests cut sliced into chips

women beaten children wronged

madness in place of common sense.

 

I am not alone

in this feral forest community

of feminine and masculine,

as children we arrived

now wisdom visits.

 

wallaby thinks not of place or belonging

comfortable in its own fur

claws perfect for scratching

picking lemons

pulling up artichokes

nurturing baby.

wallaby is not human

and I am animal

not animal enough to Know place

to belong

but animal enough to be Kin.

 

moon set

boobook poses the question

bandicoot squeals,

ants on the run

pobblebonk sings the rainSong.

 

change is upon us

denial is fruitless,

humans play catch up

but the train has left the station,

some do not hear the whistle

some lay down on the tracks

others nap head pressed against the glass.

 

no matter,

it is what it is

our Mother will decide.