daniel ilan

I, Sitting

I sit and look out in a moment of life’s shifting, on a hill made of coarse red rocks;

I see bright green budgies dart between open fields of spinifex and mulga;

I see a magpie perched on a boulder, imposing, assured, I hear him coral call to a distant ally – I watch him launch and fly off;

All around there is undulation, I conjure a celestial perspective so the landscape moves like an ocean;

I open my neck to feel sunshine from the east, a brush of soundless air;

I look at my knees, then to where the magpie stood, then nearby to a wild passionfruit flower, white, like an open palm, and a hovering bee;

Above, to the west, I see the near full moon, giant, semigloss grey, preside over the morning;

Below I see countless tussocks of lithe green grass, pleasing to the eye, but introduced for captive hordes of oxen, grazing elsewhere;

Suddenly I recall the anguished faces of people I love, or knew briefly, beset by disappointment, yearning – I feel dullish pain, and shame for expecting my luck;

I reach for my love’s hand, her shoulders peel beside me, she kisses my face, a butterfly flits on invisible swells too close for me to see, I sigh;

Looking out, upon a world I can’t understand, I sit, and am silent.