15
JULY WRITINGI
shall seize what silence and
absence offer and
listen as
I tell myself to
the other listen
to the other and
hear her tell
herself to
me In
departure we find salutary
release that
essential escape the
other plane virgin
and vacant still free
of frozen thoughts and
a heart grown numb to
have then each sense alert bared
and keen freed
from trivia I
take in each smell with
my whole hand I push I palpate I
press, I seek out the bone seek
the muscles find nerves
viscera vessels veins arteries
and ducts I press pinpoint
the pain where
the brain raises barriers I
press harder still until
tears flow and surrender follows Nothing
more nothing but
the bright gaze keen
and uncompromising there only in
the silence of the cave lies
that impulse of sincerity telling
talking of what is true we
will walk resolutely once more that same path until
we drive out arrogance until
we unmask the arbitrary within us confront
ourselves in our true light and
thus present what is pure calm
caring and patient in
the humility of paths trod
together 16
JULY ROOTSFire full
roots roots
aflame Smoke hidden
roots roots
in dark clouds of smoke Ashes elusive
roots roots
in ashes Earth missing
roots roots
flung into the wind Alibi alibi
roots without
roots And
again alibi roots
without soul my
roots so
remote multidimensional so
dubious my
roots undone by
the least breath of wind Fear
grips me my
name is no more my
footsteps upon the tree where
it lies on the ground sink And
at the frontiers roots
without roots
without ties Seeking not
seeking wishing not
wishing needing neither
needing nor
desiring the
void is the loam I feed on the
sky my mineral salts can
you hear me in
the mountain in
the ocean serene you
as I know you to be so
sure the
cordyline by your door as
I saw you your
graceful movements inscribed
in the land Kanak
your roots and
my roots in embers together
sketch a faint horizon and
our breaths become one 17 JULY THE OTHERFix
your eyes on the distance on
a mountain's side as
if it were your heart let
the wind cool you forget the
moment will come again of
the vision that
awareness without artifice of
the other Have
you found the time to
lift to your lips the
palm that
lay upon your skin unannounced such
world-awareness can
draw a whole host of beings of
names impossible to forget of
others never spoken of
faces of
feet deep in dust Come
suddenly one evening the
other will neither
be your death nor
disquiet to you merely the
nagging thought that you are alone in the world with
these others my
salvation and the ground I have touched together
we shall be the other's other and
then we will know being for
each passing second other
than fear other
than domination other
than power other
than rape and
the burned hut and
the eyes red with blood other
than the hatred of
the barricades the
ambushes the
slaughter the
tears and
the blood that
other here the
soul as
it breathes calms
the body and
embraces beauty for
it is the foam of
the breaking wave 18JULY DEATHTo
live for the day without
ever allowing yourself to
steal or borrow to
feel fatigue or despair to
admit you have lived to
read Neruda and
then go off to
take the long last road like
so many others gone after
so many years of
refusing that dreaded silence of
fighting of falling of
victories of
joy of
periods of peace of
existence in
the face of foul oppression To
keep your gaze high and
know you have not let yourself down for
any reason the
silent path of
love and compassion the
insistant will to
remain human in the face of the beast To
leave having
read Machado
Li Po Omar
Khayyam Akhmatova Jimmy
Hendrix Buckley
father and son at
Bu Raï the
gaze of the old man to
cross with him one last time the
final mountain and
leave still loving stones
and sand that
ground from which the children disappear To
have raised your voice denounced
what is unacceptable rejected
the easy chains and
submissive silence when
it seemed the only way To
leave having
read the
day as it dawns on
our friendship Then
dying is nothing dying
is not giving in. 19JULY
What
did I do today? this
morning I
crossed a part of the bay right
at the southern end in
a small craft the
weather cool and calm a
light wind from the south-east whispered
discussions of
people nearby yachts
in regattas on
shorts legs/courses sailing
close to the wind our
craft can almost touch them other
vessels are already there this
morning this
sunny morning a
clear sky the public square still
in a festive mood this
afternoon I
did nothing in
nor
anywhere on
the other hand I did recall when
I crossed a large part of
my last
month Calm
weather following a few days a
whole week of
storms a
patch of lawn between
the trees and the bare rocks friends
on the verandah to
write read and talk and
so await the moment to
rake the dead leaves low
tide releases odours freeing
the stomach of bitter humours At
night five nights in a row a
little rain keeps us awake and
Tao is at peace And
then on the last evening the
unexpected arrival of a friend from Netchadt I
had lost contact with him until this moment this
afternoon last
month once
again a peaceful stay What
was it last
night simply life the
declaration of independence 20
JULY BEING First
of all grant
us your
pardon for
having been inhuman for
having been with
no other thought but to have your
land to
be thus is
like not being Now I
want to be to
be seen for
what I am This
is a special moment the
time to slough off the
old skin to
be skeleton bone
and cartilage and
create our humanity anew From
Knowledge and from Compassion will
come the real being elsewhere
is so far away we
have our own lives to shape anew Now let
us confront one another I
see your
skin your body the
genealogies the poles planted in
the ground and
firmly planted there the old man leading
his people Tell
me you see the
person in the other become
human once more 21
JULY BEING alone
What
is this loneliness that kills leaves
us at dawn blind and bare on
virgin grass and and broken branch What
other loneliness saves us when
deaf to the echo of our souls the
days pass in the sunless lair that
urgency of being in the world builds
a bridge of rope and wood above
bottomless abysses in
which pile up our shed skins Free
from inquisitive gaze I
clasp beauty in close embrace I
love and I sing without restraint the
moment I find myself again The
hours of solitude feed my
thoughts tone up my muscles send
my breath deep down my
back and so see the ego dissolve
before their manifold presence See
fear dissolve in the beat of
the body's rhythmic writhing simmering
on the city's fringe To
be alone to be true excluding
nothing the
heart welcomes the hand as it gives 22
JULY the land Tell
me of your land my
friend that
imprint of your soul tell
me of your blood your
soul's source teach
me to
see my soul when
the path is not plain show
me in the song of the conch the
breath's birth Land
that is yours host
land land
of welcome other
blood land
to beach on and moor to land
to wait on to pass through land
to
come and die in to
be be reborn in land
with no aim except simply
living since
such is our destiny on
this earth Kanak
land land
for its own sake land
to breathe in where
to transgress can
mean combat and
existence Many-faceted
land mine
is a chunk of concrete but
in the breathing of the ground through
this transitory shell I
can feel rise through my feet heart
mouth and gut up
to the mountains the
age-old existence I know so well 23
JULY WAITING I
know your
waiting I
can see it ancient come
from afar from
the years without understanding year
of nothingness your
waiting fills
space companions
the circle's arc sunlight
and blood lost I
hear you
tell of the land of the Kanak tell
of hope that
to heed the other will
lead us to men in their new-found pride two
destinies in one as
we live together Let
us be wary of closing our ears to
the words that tell demand
grasp give take
make the
Other Land if
we hear not we cannot breathe waiting
is cries writing
simple
everyday gestures and
listening uplifts
the heart a thousandfold The
echo of your waiting shows
me my own path I
shall follow it faithful to
my innermost urges and
my heart races many
voices an
image of myself on
the face of her to
whom I listen 24
JULY FEARThe
clear blue tropical sky will
not hide forever the
uncertain gestures nor the stunted bodies their
strength gone the
fear of having all too often submitted
to terrible contortions which
an obtuse mind dictates
with the intransigence of
a camp warder The
cloudless sky conceals
nothing of
the fear felt
those who have never expressed the
incomparable thirst for freedom when
having long known the muzzle they
speak out at last in
words inscribed on
the bark of the banyans No
fear can free no
fear delight the
stranger she
whom I know not the
newcomer he
whom we know but too well or
too little on
whom is projected my
hell on
whom is
poured my hate my
fear of the intruder As
we breathe we become aware we
will rid ourselves of these bitter vapours like
cries of hate if
we gaze at the horizon we
look directly ahead without
threatening glance nor
convenient amnesia nor
fear that numbs the brain To
bathe then in the pure clear water of
our own home 25
JULY BEING WITH THE OTHERGiving
is not a sacrifice is
nothing to sacrifice neither
my love nor my friendship nor
the beauty I cherish nor
the heart I
surrender to no
sacrifice in
loving this other who
is suddenly before me one
evening of revolt no
sacrifice hearing
the waves crash
upon my skin nor
the family estate nor
the land I believe in no
sacrifice in
taking the time to
follow the other path The
dead of the years of violence have
their blood the colour of earth accompany
those from the present mingling
with tears love and
memory thus
to consign to darkness selfishness the
passion for power the
AIDS of easy money Let
us one day offer them in joyful sacrifice for
they are but old skins old
rancour and resentment old
rifles old colony which we fling at death our
aged body naked and exposed ready
at last to become drunk with perfumes smelt
but faintly the other night And
so sacrifice sacrifice for
life is full of riches truth
is found in forgetting self who
in their home will
now speak of useless deaths of
wasted destinies instead
of torrents swelling to life 26
JULY CREATIONIn
a moment of great sorrow God
created the
universe and the earth as
we know and
then he returned to
his remorse and
we mortals must
take care of the rest the
earth and what goes with it And
so we created everything higgledy-piggledy the
beautiful the ugly in
one neat package a
complete list of all we got wrong would
be too long too
sad and sickening and
the list of good things well
that needs some thinking about but
there must be some As
for us we
could tell of a few from
the crimes of colonialism to
the virtues of conscience from
the crimes of cultural extinction to
the virtues of friendship that transcends barriers from
the subtle evils of "I will teach you" to
the immediate benefits of "teach me your ocean cosmogony" and
"all the rest" as stated above "Died
out of an inability to create a
dance a song a text or
love or emotion" that
is the epitaph that awaits us if
we continue as we are believing
that we are unable to
have things as we would wish them Man
takes care of the rest and
of himself first of all what
an exciting thought that
we might assume a little ignorance in
welcoming the words of the other 27
JULY LISTENSilence
pursues me even
to what I hold most dear my
mind in tatters I
listen to
the sound of our mountains as
they tell me of my life At
peace now I
listen to
the whispering of the wind between
the walls grubby
walls each with its tale each
tagged with graffiti and covered in cracks between
early morning and
the anguish of certain nights I
listen to
the occasional sudden sound soft
or resounding from
the suburbs to the north the shanty towns or
the bays in the south to
those many sounds the
piles of stones simulating
symphonies then
lapsing as if surprised back into silence the
many mindless words sound
common sense and words of wisdom which
are but a single unchanging
heap of rusting rubbish that
will not die Through
my lips through my footsteps through
my entire body and
the pores of my skin I
listen to
the thousand and one words of our land already here As
for those who are stubborn still a
simple love without
character or thought will
bear them unfailingly to
the heart's heart 28
JULY HOPETo
have hope this
day and
in the void inscribe
a name or
paint a face an
idea a
wish another
time another sky no
more than waking the
simple expectations of a day heralded
by the dew on
the bamboo by the gate Hope
is that ability to
impose on absence or
on the fading day a
fresh vision The
sun that every evening promises
its return which
it announces as it sets those
moments of wild imaginings our
whole attention focused
on the moment awaiting
the next new breath To
return the
children's gaze without
compromise without
hatred a
simple but sufficient hope to
see our land grow greater made
strong by our presence and
a virgin space in
which we can invent
a life for ourselves To
read the prints left by
a thousand feet and bodies stretched out on
the white soil of
the day to come to
see there the many directions of the diversely-peopled land summoned
in silence by
the divers lines of
concrete bitumen and dampened earth which
each day repel
the void 29
JULY TO TELL THE TRUTHTo
tell the truth that
we might survive to
tell the truth holding
nothing back to
feel flow beneath the skin the tide of life too
many eyes averted too
many looks of disappointment Who
will come to
speak in our stead no-one so
much the better the
field is free and
now we must occupy it and
live and hold within us humanity
as the ultimate end and
so what if the honest word exposes
us to those who delight in thinking of
the risks that we will take walking
barefoot on the broken glass of
our former lies the
truth of
a life its
body and memory bared today which
is no ordinary day otherwise how
can we look in the face those
who will follow us our
children to
tell their bitterness at
having been deceived by
the arrogance and
other sorry masks retrieved
from other places from
the dead of other battles 30
JULY ELSEWHERE «Elsewhere
exists» There
exist elsewhere other meanings there
exist other doors and
other doors open on
other skies I
spend more time hours
and toil reading
the poet William Cliff than
those poets present here he
is as close to my heart as
those other itinerant writers Borders
of our states in
the eight directions states
of consciousness rather some
immutable reality To
read humanity in each encounter while
letting the body of
my house open itself to
the planet's breath Open
and vulnerable without
adornment or distinction without
waiting for
replies or precise directions With
just enough of the void inside us to
gently rest our simple hearts on
the swelling tide that they may float to
the frontiers of other worlds The
eye laved with the salt of magical storms to
see that in the mirror of the beyond there
dwells like a kindly irony the
true heart of our immediate neighbour 31
JULY TOWARD TOMORROWFrom
a distance it
is true there are only a
few of us packed
skin to skin on
a few acres of
old earth old
sand beneath
a sky too
often mute and
for company merely
stones that
make no sense Elsewhere where
we are called upon to go our
tenuous lives begin
to resemble a
journey from which there is no return one
of imminent death so
indispensible and with no guarantee of
a second birth Drifting
during these days on
the ocean's face the
shadow of a memory and
my heart far from empty it
has snatched a few phrases loneliness and
to love more presence
of the other vigilance
in the land of the living 1
AUGUST Before leaving I went and
walked on waves of stone over lichen
large leaves and damp grass on the
ochre sand which had
worked its way among the dead branches fallen from
nearby trees The sounds
of our conversations still echo
on this swell as it ends
at Coogee I heard in
it confidences shared when words
and foam unfurl foam light
as the imprint of our lives And in the
thousand waves that beat ceaselessly on the rocks I hear
already the well-known sounds of those we love fill the
silent spaces lost in the
hubub that
unfurls behind us |