The winter river runs
beneath turbulent skies
feeding river gums
reaching to the heavens
to land beneath the feet of birds
singing the seasons melodies

Bury me beneath the starry night
where I can feel the earth beneath my bones
Lay me to rest by the river
let the waters wash away your tears
Remember me
in birdsong
spring blooms
the light sound of rain on a tin roof
Wrap me in natures alms
take solace in her rhythm

In how many ways can we be lost?
My pen is missing
it's not where I thought it was left
on the table
beside the bed
where it was tossed
I am lost in your words
beyond comprehension
when you talk
I don't follow
Perplexed
bewildered
confused
till you pause
begin again
I ought to have done it differently
you warned
A squandered opportunity
not used to my advantage
to be transformed
I am lost beyond reach
though we talked for hours
you roared
The debate was lost
the battle
the war
Now I cannot find my way
beyond recovery
redemption
flawed
Our language our custom
no longer known
lost
mourned
Have I lost my mind?
Or am I simply lost
in thought?

The restless spirit
moves apace
As if always
almost
out of time
Trying to squeeze into every moment
experiences anew
that may bring it to arrive
at last
at a place of knowledge
wisdom
peace
In our haste to get there
are we missing that which we seek with such urgency?
Is it in the moment that we rush by?
Moments themselves are restless things
forever racing from the past
tumbling into the future
elusive to capture
Permanence fades with the rain
for we cannot hold a moment
Like a child it must move on
to greater things
becoming what it must be
The restless heart does not want it all
but it does want to feel it all
To know what it is to live each moment
as if it were our last
before our ashes are scattered to the wind

I'm standing in the queue, swede in hand
a trolley filled with representations of the person I hope to become
fresh, safe, healthy, organic
the sound of fruit and vegetables screaming for my attention
drowns out the sound of you wondering out load how it came to this
the food on my table became something much bigger than it was ever intended to be
there's no such thing as an innocent steak and peas
you casually opened my fridge door for a cursory glance
an uninvited familiarity
my inner private world
until now known only to myself and the ******* the checkout at the grocery store
when I invited you to dinner you looked at me as if I had asked you to father my children
but we had been dancing around in concentric circles of admiration
formalities slipping away over drinks for weeks
could inviting you to cross my threshold have overstepped yours?
I have offered you a seat at my table and a place in my heart
not your last supper
a sacred feast symbolizing the beginning of something more
a time when I know what you like to eat for breakfast and how you have your coffee
when you share your pleasure in your meal with me on the same fork across the table
when tastes and aromas inhabit our landscape
forming our story around the intimacy of food

Taking dinner from your litter
not a drifter seeking shelter
an organiser
sympathiser
Hero of the oppressed
the distressed
While millions wait in hunger
shipwrecked
poverty entrenched
capitalism unchecked
Does it make you wonder
if your contempt
for the dumpster diver
is justified?
Use the planet
for your plunder
it is a little ******
your appetiser
could quench the hunger
of a village over winter
Does it upset you to accept
your excuses
are inept?
The diver of the dumpster
is an enigma
a free thinker
challenging you
with counterculture
to wake from your slumber
reject
excess
redress
Food injustice

I came here on a boat
of hope
Bereft
of home
family
identity
I sought shelter
from the storm
of war
hatred
scorn
Alone on a sea
with the clothes on my back
one shoe
a love letter
she wrote
as she drew
her final breathe
Australia
land of the free
democracy
A chance to leave behind
my pain
begin again
bit I find
more of the same
A land where running from fear
is a crime
They say I leapt ahead
instead of standing
in some orderly
imaginary queue
I am punished for surviving
locked away
You believe people
will stop running to you
if you deprive them of liberty
dignity
But the greatest loss has past
the writer of the note
my other shoe
All that's left to me
is life
and that
depends on you