Will the U.S. election results affect me personally? Many have told me it will make no difference to my life. So why did I drink and watch the news for three days straight? Here in Australia, I am one of the few obsessed with American politics, while most seem largely indifferent.
Apart from the excitement of the first Black president, and the novelty factor of the first orange one, Australians generally have little interest in who’s in charge over there.
Fair enough, I suppose. It’s probably a positive trend in modern Australia that we’re far more concerned about our own politicians than either the British royal family or U.S. presidents. …
What if I woke up and the nightmares were over?
If I could turn on the news just to hear about a car accident,
my heart would float away with the clouds.
What if all the baseless hate melted into the soil
to be transformed by micro-organisms, watered by rain,
warmed by dawn, until it grew into a radiant love which
stretched tall, reaching for the sky like a sunflower.
What if you saw the flower and gasped, remembering
the first time you noticed the beauty of existence,
when you were a child and you knew what was true.
What if the light of sunrise spread across the world, turning
everything gold and pink for a minute or two, enough
time to remind us to open our eyes and our minds
to reality, which is not hidden in screens but out there. …
I dive in the sea
away from TV
to escape the sharks
who want to consume me
to be in currents
which pull me out
then deliver me in
to bring to my mind
that life is a cycle
a washing machine
where’s the seabed?
when beaches erode
we pile up sandbags
for future storms
who knows what’s next?
we can’t prepare
for every risk
but we can’t let go
because we know
so I must try
to strike a balance
within its flow
drift or swim
floating on tides
washing my tears
strive to accept
I’m only a drop
in this infinite
I dreamt about a bird. I had to keep it until it was time for cooking. It sat on my chest, wrapped in a tea towel, as I lay on a couch and felt its bones and feathers rustle beneath my fingers. Eventually it became quiet and we slept together through the heat of the day.
When I woke, my hands still gently trapped the bird, but I sensed it trusted me now. Suddenly I realised she was female and she understood me. I imagined a mouth sucking the meat from those bones. Although I knew it wouldn’t be my mouth, the image was too sad to bear. The despair increased until I could hardly breathe. …
Routine days start and end.
Am I really this content?
It’s all sweet in my little life,
working, writing, being a wife,
but too much sugar makes me ill.
Uneasy twinges grow until
broken nails tear my skin
to let the crazy world come in.
A little chaos keeps me awake,
some conflict for the story’s sake.
I need to pierce the peaceful bubble
to claim my piece of global trouble.
When it’s all going to shit out there
the serenity in here isn’t fair.
I wish I could ignore the strife
and build a wall around my life,
but I suppose it will never work.
I’m still a part of the wider world.
Even with closed eyes I see
I need something bigger than me.
‘Like waiting for a biopsy.’
and I’m not even directly affected.
This last week
is not easy:
a daily escalation
Try not to slip
down the terror spiral.
Try not to trip out
on how it’s so wrong.
Focus on those
small signs of light
in this dismal tunnel.
will cycle on
When I took flight it was not with wings in the sky;
my fatal mistake was to escape across the seas.
I had no choice, but that was beside the point;
you used me as your villain in the news.
You surrendered my life as a lesson to the rest.
You stole my life for a vote to stop the boats.
For seven years I waited for a chance to land,
circling the cloudy patterns of my doubts,
detained in the lonely island of my brain.
Whenever a friend would try to guide me down
you silenced them with rules to hide the truth.
With cold intent, you left me up in the air,
for countless hours, stranded and forgotten.
As each year passed, the skies grew darker, darker;
hope was harder, harder to locate.
Stresses ate away my youth and health.
What did I do to lose my right to a home?
I cannot see a tomorrow where I’m free.
How do I survive, flying blind?
It’s been too long. …
I’m not scared of Donald himself;
he’s only one of the fools.
It’s his fans who make me shiver inside
when I wake up late at night.
How do they respect a man
who’s exists only to lie?
Do they really think he cares for them
or anybody at all?
Ruthless, mean, ignorant,
what do they want from him?
Truly, I hope the answer is
that somehow they trust his words,
as the alternative is worse.
If the reason for their worship is
the brutal example he sets
for an aggressive restoration
of domination for white men,
then I fear for everyone
and I might just lose all hope
in any human future.
If you’re not fearful right now,
you’re not paying attention,
but is that the best way to be?
It’s very appealing to me
sometimes to avert my eyes,
to switch the news feed off,
to clean my own house,
to breathe my sweet air,
to swim in my clear water,
to hope the poor decisions
of all the selfish politicians
never come to fruition
and burst my lucky bubble.
I wish, but the problem is
I know hope is not enough
and prayers will never cut it.
Who will stop the insanity
if not you and I?
Although it’s easy to feel
helpless against stupidity,
surely, if we don’t give up,
one day we must be understood;
we don’t want to steal jobs,
we don’t want to control minds,
we don’t want to live in caves,
we only want to stay alive.
I don’t want to be glad to hear that you’re sick.
It feels so wrong to think like this,
but it gives me a hope which I cannot deny.
Because of your choices, thousands have died.
Your death could save many more lives
if it forces your mob to realise
science is the way to discover what’s real.
Without you, there may be potential to heal
the terrifying rifts that have opened between us.
It’s clear one person won’t defeat this virus.
We’ve a common cause we can only fight
if we drop self-interest and honestly unite.