Flood Fest Weekend
entering the forest
faces tangled in the thoughts
sunny pavement and the anticipation brews
sickly melamine tiles
and shop signs stripped by heat
the town, stripped of life,
giant Coles and sparkly gyms eating up
the empty buildings and local soul.
you ask a question, I deliberate
no more thoughts, only faces
I retreat into my limbs.
how much of the world’s tension can you cram into a weekend?
a beautiful movement burgeoning inside studio walls
and layers of community
a tree reborn from driftwood and human hands
children, parents, immigrants, creatives, misfits, poc
all sharing, moving, exchanging
shining brighter than the streets outside
than the whiteness cloaked in union jacks
and blatant naivety
and “good intentions”
that threatens to eradicate all,
that bleaches the town of its soul.
I ask a question, you
emerge from your extruded limbs
tangled vines relax into embrace.
the forest is our deep-time past
and an endless moment in the now.
it protects us. empowers us.
in these dark groves, at least, soul exists.
ancient power exists.
we find connection in its roots
and safety in its shade.
so when I leave the forest,
lighter, freer, stronger,
a stranger turned to devoted student,
I know it will never really leave me.