He wandered his whole life
Between galaxies
Parents, brothers and sister lost in space
They dropped away
Voices silenced
Across the years
Sorrow ever present
Eyes dulled
Their shadows dimming
Fading away one by one
Between countries
Losing out against
Warring tribes committing depraved travesties
Outdoing their own barbarity
For fear continues to be the universal currency
To be bartered and traded with others ignominy.
Years of life crawl so slowly by
At the edge of civilisation
In nowhere land
Behind rusty, wire caged fences
In paltry shanty towns full of strangers
Of ghosts
In a waiting game
In no man’s land
Languishing in uncertainty
In the incessant heat
With swirling dust storms for company
But even though he endures the passage of time
He remains hopeful…
For now
For now he has won the lottery!
For now
Away from his shanty town
To make Australia home!
For there are no wars!
In that strange bountiful land
Where everyone smiles
Until jaws ache
In that land
A land full of kind, white people
A land of cricket, football and “she’ll be right mate”
And so many opportunities
Waiting
In that oh so lucky country.
But joy in his new home
Soon takes a different turn
That bountiful land
Turns away her grace
And shows a far more insidious face.
The county’s initial embrace,
It’s seductive kiss,
With all its charm
That intoxicated him
That blinded him
Says an untimely farewell
And he is left again with his old friend
An old acquaintance he knows too well
Loneliness
Hope turns to sadness and despair
For as he realises that his new white brothers
Do not feel as he does
And they turn their backs
Indifferent
Shrug their shoulders
And walk away.
“Do not fear me”- he cries
“Do not cross the road”
“Because you do not know me”
But no one is listening.
“Oh my father, my mother, my dear, darling sister!
Why did you have to leave me?
Why did you abandon me?
For I now have no one
But fear by my side
For I am alone in a world full of strangers.
What is to become of me?”
He cries.
And so he is left alone basking in mediocrity
To start a new life
At the fringes of urban dwelling
Left to languish anew
Scraping at the edges
Hungering now not for food
But for connection
For purpose and meaning
Working for a pittance
His dreams unfulfilled
His potential unseen
Testing his resolve
His resilience
Our wanderer
Our traveller of galaxies.
For the cycle continues
Despite all our good intentions.
The Spoken Word 