Driftwood
You are clear wind, playing into the shadows. From the open into the rushes. Here evenings feed you on moon's gentle light. Here daytime sun shimmers upon your body, a golden token. You shouldn't be here in this world, but I have tugged and brought you with me. Opened you up into old wounds that ooze Marri's red kino. Into thick tufts of banksia flowers that blossom painted wood-like petals into organised architecture of immense perfection.
How upon your journey beyond death, from redwood to here, you've lost familiarity. You've become a figment that grows roots deep like eucalyptus. And flakes bark after bark into sheeted paperbark lacework. And stands bent at the knees in sweet lake water lapping at language, speaking to me in tongues.
I have learnt with you how love loses shape after loss, becomes air, becomes an image that haunts in tender vivid ways.
You, driftwood grief, and I, slowly drifting towards you. © SoulReserve 2026
