This looks very strange to me.
I am from the Island,
And...
You never see it.

This blue sky spreads a beautiful
Calmness amongst everyone and everything.
The birds chirp, the people do their gardening
And speak nice things about their neighbours.

And yet,
In the corner of a dark room,
There I sit.
Alone.

Alone and angry.
The path has split and cracked
And I stagger with drunken fury.
All the way home.

This endless rage burns,
And burns through my words.
But at who?
What for?

The sea is dark, blue and empty.
The ship bobs in the churning water,
As one man pulls endlessly at fishnets,
But vultures circle above waiting for him to starve.

GRAHAM MURPHY