THREE POEMS BY JOHN STUART

BUSH WALK

Rainforest, natural,
a leaf-strewn track,
quietly meandering.

Mossy rocks and pebbles,
a gurgling, bubbling stream,
gently cascading.

Flickering filtered light,
lush greenery,
softly moving.

A disturbed bird,
a flash of movement,
silence.

An open clearing,
fernery, tall trees,
a presence.

A slowing, a sensing,
suffused light,
sacred.

A belonging, a becoming,
stillness,
tranquillity.

Credit: rggoldie/Flickr (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/)

THE CALLING

MONKEY MIA, WESTERN AUSTRALIA

The sea is calm,
the gentlest breeze,
a world of peace,
relaxed, at ease.

They came,
first the Mother and Child,
tentative, checking it out,
then seven more, in formation, obediently,
in homage to the onlookers,
standing still, on the edge,
reverently, wanting to know.
Then breaking ranks and performing,
small groups, family and friends
forming and reforming,
graceful arcs above and below,
here and there,
their breathing crisp and audible,
connecting.
An occasional flurry and frolic,
then relaxing, in control, free and fluid.

Individuals
slowing slowly, stopping,
curiously, looking, just looking.
Some twisting,
turning one eye upwards intuitively,
baleful eyes, familiar feelings,
greetings …
We are here, in the flesh,
free and open to accept
what this is.
The sacrament,
offerings of fish,
in ordered lines, coming forth,
one on one,
we are as one.
the gift is given and received
with grace, in deference.
The rituals complete, they depart on cue,
bonding in beauty, we are born anew.

Credit: Ian Cochrane/Flickr (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)

ALONG THE BIRDSVILLE TRACK

The sun beats down, the wind swirls through,
the sweat clings to my back,
the horizon floats in fading hues,
along the Birdsville Track.

The road ahead is an endless line,
as car stirs dust on high,
the land endures this passing sign,
it does not live or die.

The sands and soils of seedless time
form contours flowing by,
the landscape curves, a gentle rhyme,
speaking to the sky.

The glittering sight of cooling night,
shimmering rocks signal day,
the Earth is turning, sweetness, light,
life’s cycles fade away.

CONTRIBUTOR: John Stuart is a poet based in Byron Bay, NSW. www.jkstuart.com