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The silver has a tarnish
The dust has dulled the sheen Scratch and rub and polish Can’t see what has been. And then a gift of diamonds A hard edge memory Scratch and expose the centre The birds are flying free. Against a stormy, ragged sky Their flight is bright & strong The silver-winged mob cuts long and high And explodes into heavenly song. The rags and dust fall away And a clean crisp shows A mixture of metal and clay The power and the glory grows. This moment of strength & passion Is a flash of brilliant lightning Then in a moment’s reflection, crashing The empty space echoes so frightening.
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Author"Words are clumsy pretenders of the images of my mind." Categories
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May 2017
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As a practicing artist I have travelled far and wide across Australia, walked on country, camped on country and rolled out my swag. I thank the custodians and I acknowledge the traditional owners of country throughout Australia and their continuing connection to land, culture and community. I pay my respect to Elders past and present.