Nature Reserve

 

The gate signing

what can and

cannot be done

Walking on

path rutted

shaped by many feet

Scraggly natives

Yellow strawflowers

Grey green shoulder

broken by embedded stone

Piercing red rosehips

Screaming noisy miner

birds signal invasion

Swinging head

back and forth

Kangaroos watching

waiting, then

fleeing from unknown

Arriving at summit

Grey clouds open

slivers of gold

above blue ridges

defining the end

     Sunset      Red Hill Nature Reserve                     Canberra Australia

 

Thinking of my brother Lon Hutchison.  His birthday is 22 June.  He would have been 62 years old.  He was hit by a bus and killed in Mazatlan Mexico 5 May 2014. 

 

Rounding a bend

something shiny

glinting in the sun

a car

Intruder

in a forest walk

that should go on forever

OHHHHklahoma

where the wind comes

sweeping down the plain

Invaders of territory

promised

in perpetuity

to displaced Cherokees

Snatched away

leaving only the washed up

migrants

failed elsewhere

to wait on the border

wagons lined up

the pistol shot

signaling

race to take over land

repossess the stolen

broken promises

unstable

unwelcoming

environment

to raise a family

divorce

extreme cruelty

three young children

barely beyond teen age

mother

not promising soil

for raising a family

constant migration

mostly men

moving moving

looking for work

handouts

jumping on and off freight trains

not belonging

anywhere

outliers

rough camaraderie

no questions asked

ethical code of hobos

persuade runaway children

return home

he refused

age 13

jumped a freight

joined the hobos

on his way to California

Ohhhklahoma

Thoughts while ill and not ill with mystery virus

January, February, 2017

                                                                     Photo by Gabriel Collett

 

Living in a soup

Daily survival

Minimal activity

No motivation to do more

Strange illness

Mystery virus

Late afternoon

in bed

too tired to sleep

Staring at

brick wall

Noting

whiteness of some bricks

the pattern they make

Not motivated by hunger

Not wanting to cook

Lack of respect for the body

Betrayal of the body

Unreliability of the body

Living in limbo

Nothing much matters

Everyday life holds no interest

Real life dulled

By a sickness that seems almost imaginary

If I think hard enough

If I just try harder

Surely it will go away

Yet it drags on with no real focus

And I am not

What I want to be

 

 

Watching

cars go by

So many people

encased in metal

Do they put it on

like a new outfit

Slip into something

that gives them a

different personality

a different way of being

Feeling self assured in my BMW

My Audi tells me who I am

Why sacrifice

being human

to get places faster

In a car we are

no one

non caring

non communicative

in motion

to nowhere

 

10 March 2017

Mom’s Australian Hat from her visit in 1992

the passing on                                                                                                                                  from one generation to another
an object
a beloved object
my mother gave me                                                                                                                      too many objects
I wear them
I remember her
but there are so many
Is any one special
was any her favourite
no way to know

Today’s your birthday, Mom. I wish we could celebrate together.

Love,                                                                                                                                           Pamela

1 March 2017

I remember.  The final day I had with you Mom.  1 March 2011.  I was there when you opened your eyes, looked at me and your grandson Nathan and then closed your eyes forever.  A few days earlier you had asked me if you were dying.  I said yes and that everything was taken care of, you could go in peace.  And you did.

Yesterday I got out your blue jean jacket with the patches from one of your trips to Africa.  You sewed all the patches and embroidered the outline of the African continent on the back of the jacket.

Mom's Africa Jacket

                     Mom’s Africa Jacket

I live surrounded by you.  Whenever I go out, I open up the drawers with your jewelry and choose something to wear.  Bracelets, necklaces, so many to choose from.

You are always with me and will be forever.

With love,

Pamela

 

no writing for this blog for months

not that I’m not thinking about

my mother

my family

my brother

my sister, who recently died of cancer

my nephews

my sons

What is taking up all of my writing thoughts, time?

my father

working on a novel

based on events in his life

events I never knew about

events that appear in documents

as if he were a stranger

I am still trying to get to know him

45 years after he died Lon Hutchison young man

I have been writing

short pieces

reflections

research

notes

Scanning books

upon books

upon books

Living in a different reality

that of my father

But not of my father

I am living it intellectually

He was living it viscerally

Emotionally

Painfully

I feel phantoms

of pain

awareness of

suffering

confusion

disgrace

stigma

being shut out

being kicked out

a reject

Yet with tremendous will

to be different

in his own life

using the template

of Christian Science

 

I have to start over

I will go through his life

again

with more depth

more understanding

Organize the research

get back into the routine

of writing

 

In a university seminar

a transitional community

with people

thinking of

talking about

practicing

writing

stimulating

like a jump into a cold river

on a hot day

 

Narrative joins the dots

between facts

The story of my father

Connections to find meaning

Calling out to my father

Come home, come home

it’s suppertime

Character development

a man chooses hope

a man chooses a template

a way of life to climb out of the depths

of the snake pit

Lon Hutchison young man

 

If it matters

I should write about it

 

The grace of the Greens

the commitment

the creativity

the hope

 

Reaching out to

hidden reality

of people suffering

People not spoken of

not cared for

Imprisoned indefinitely

having committed no crime

 

Diving down

into the Reef

Caring for sea life

for beauty underneath

 

Listening to sounds

of gates

being locked

against intruders

coal mines

coal seam gas

that destroy land

and beauty

and life itself

 

Remembering

traditional custodians

of country

who never ceded

sovereignty

 

Recapturing

the immense

possibilities

of sun and wind

in an ancient continent

Greens Triangle

 

 

 

 

 

 

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