#always moving

The Dreamtime speaks of humanity’s arrival in Australia 65,000 years ago, and it speaks to us now, reminding us of our place in the web of land, story, and spirit.

Storms come to me unbidden,

Sudden squall blown into fierce tempest.

They rage, plucking at my heart,

I hear the moaning ghosts on the wind.

They cannot be outrun,

Cannot be silenced.

My voice, though shrieking, is consumed,

As i am tossed like a rag doll in the turbulent air.

I search for shelter, already torn away,

Shiver in the darkness of black clouds.

Every way I turn is thunder and lightning,

My tears drowned by lashing rain.

Yet still, I walk the storms,

Till I reach the centre,

Where the eye holds clarity,

And the winds shriek in whispers.

So I learn to walk that centre,

Confined but not caged.

Free from the dreadful violence,

Of storm-wrought suffering.

There is a dance to be had,

Dallying in the shifting centre,

Moving with the storm,

Instead of seeking shelter.

Embrace the wildness,

Temper it with awareness,

Till the centre becomes a shelter,

Me: I wasn’t moving

My sister: it’s all you’ve been doing for the past couple of minutes

Me: it’s how I live my life