Winmalee, New South Wales
I found him floating on an evening breeze,
melting and oozing like treacle.
The edges of moonlight
glistened on his treacle skin,
glowing like angel silk
I watched his lips loosen, peeling back in a smile.
For the first time in his life, he was back home,
back where the wild things grow;
The night orchids, the rivers of oozing honey,
the glowing bell frogs, croaking in the bubbling stream.
The dew glistening on the hard grain trees,
the moonlight catching the hollows of the bark,
casting long shadows across the water.
I follow him there by the light of a candle.
The flame flickers and hollows in the breeze,
tunnelling and snuffing out as I breathe deep.
The world falls into darkness and I can finally think.
I can breathe again and I know I’m safe in the dark.
Alone, wrapped in my cocoon.
And in the darkness come the rich smells of night;
The honeysuckle, plump and sweet.
The sounds, the sights;
The river frogs croaking.
The shadows creeping,
the roses blooming.
I can feel it all in the darkness.
And that’s when I know I’m alive.
When my heart beats in time with the river frogs.
When I feel the cool water over my fingers.
The bubbling stream churning,
The moonlight catching the water,
dancing, sinking deep.
I can feel again.
I can dance again.
The world spins around me, but I don’t care.
I’m home in this sacred place.
Every breath, every beat of my heart
grounds me here in this Eden.
I’m home again.
Alone in sweet moonlight.