Beautiful, fragrant, colourful, majestic blossoms in the wilderness cast a magical spell, sublime feeling, a sensation eroded by time; an infant is born, a miracle offspring of love; still the momentary vision fades away, we are unable to hold onto a blessed mirage, creation re-wound, his dream of perfection remains elusive, and he looks beyond himself to attribute the source of the malaise.

A broken violin string once upon a time played angelic heavenly tunes silencing all senses. Love, a many splendour-thing, glorious light embracing all towards the heavenly bliss. But the path is replete with traps, darkness and sorrow.

Yesterday.

By chance, she caught a glimpse of him about to catch a train. She had been away for four months overseas. His heart remained distant; his narrative and hers, an ocean apart. A mother’s heart bled with grief. A glimpse back to the past mother-infant story, her only source of relief.

Two breathing creatures inter-linked in creation seemed destined to be cast in the shadow of darkness. Her soul remained bathed in faith and hope that their forked roads would get to meet in their lifetime.

Uncertainty is unsettling. The last time we met, we didn’t see eye to eye.

It seems many moons ago, and I never thought that our paths would cross again. It is uncanny that the passing away of someone we both know would make us meet face-to-face once more.

Justice is something that I don’t necessarily expect in this lifetime. An apology for your absurd outburst would seem to me to be out of character. But Mystery is an occurrence that I respect. And my open horizon leaves uncertainty to providence or to grace.

Death leaves no stone unturned. Life is the breath of the spirit. My life seems to me to be written not just by my own action or reflection. You who have crossed my path must mean something that we as yet both don’t fully understand.

I speculate and try to discern what drives our behaviour, what values or perception of truth we make as the engine that propels us to act in a certain way or to say what we say to each other.

Do we care enough about the consequences of our thought and action? Is the concern for wellbeing purely internalised or, integrated with all of life as we know it?

You are not only your thoughts but the sum total of your past, your upbringing, and your sense of selfhood, and in this sense, I do not hold you totally accountable for what you say or do. And in any case, I cannot judge you; only that my experience with you helps me grow within.

Uncertainty is both unsettling and exciting for we do not fully know what surprises life brings us.

Listening to musical lyrics…”What can one say when a love affair is over…” I look deeply into my soul, and I cannot honestly say that I can ‘unlove’ who I have loved.

The chain of people I meet through my walk in life is like the break of dawn, the garland of roses that affirms presence, the laughing brook that welcomes their approach, and yes, I see the ecstatic burst of majestic sunset colours fade away, but the experience of love shared, I will always hold in my heart.

Friends, lovers, and soul mates, we all create and re-create the space that both binds and frees us for we are not captives of temporal time, our existence goes beyond physical touch, and so it is, that every breath we take marks a new awakening of remembering, not a swift glance, but an all-embracing look outside time, for we live an unbroken mystery that is simply perpetually lovely.

How do we respond to the question

That unsettles our hearts,

The rocks speak to us,

The rivers cry, the bush burns,

The floods consume our properties

To the rooftops,

Global viruses mutate, invading

Our life flow patterns,

Our pie in the sky is losing its lustre,

Dictators burn cities and people

Into smithereens,

We seek peace and solace

From nowhere but here,

From within our souls

Tormented by paradise lost,’

lost in our self-inflicted affliction,

mournful of what we have become.

Peace is at the gate waiting

for us to come to our senses.

Still water runs deep,

Time is now for hearing silenced voices

To echo in our souls,

To let the power of our truth prevail

on the storying of our land.

Survival

Our First Nations people managed to survive,

Their ancient foot trails perpetually

Inscribed on Country,

Their legacy flows continuously

In the lifeblood of Australia’s becoming.

No more game of symbolism,

Of saying ‘Sorry’ without repairing the damage

To the main artery of our consciousness,

Of keeping our Motherland alive,

Our Aboriginal brothers and sisters

Still wallow at the bottom of the well

Of our indifference.

Pooncarie, 17 April 2022

If you can peel every layer of my skin,
will you see the real me,
If you can read every inch of my thought, will you still think,
that is the whole of me,
If you can feel every beat of my heart,
will you believe you have captured all the love I can give,
If you can mirror the depth of my soul,
do you think that is all you need to know about me?

Knowing and thinking is not all there is to it,
why Love persists despite all our follies
is beyond human understanding.
Peace is a treasure we receive from within,
a light we perceive that is always aglow,
it comes from a well of unfathomable mystery:
why we are loved by the Nameless

greater than ourselves
unconditionally!

The shadow and light shimmering reflection of the bush

on the river arrests my eyes, gleaning with the sun

like a halo shining against the light blue sky, flashing

a mirage of paradise from the past,

sculpted carvings of half-exposed roots suddenly appear

in my sight, hanging by the thread. I feel unsettled

as I step on dry, parched land trying to read a Country

deprived of living water.

Mining tail run-offs muddy crystal-clear springs,
and stolen waters to feed food crops have seized the

twinkle and sparkle of the dancing lake nymphs

for their dishonoured habitation

has left them breathless, their frolicking fish friends

have been found life-less floating on the river

warning of an omen of dark days ahead.

The light of consciousness beckons to return to Earth now

to heal our wounded Mother, for her children must unite

to throw asunder the poison chalice of power and greed

and uphold the sanctity of the grounds of being.

The azure sky faded into oblivion,

floods of tears permeated the earth,

drowning cars and dwellings

up to the rooftops, earthly treasures perished,

and for some, their last breath they drew.

Unprecedented! —a word that once more

echoed from the burning bush

that licked the forest to ashes!

What short memories we had even when

the space between disasters shrank.

From our deepest lament over the glitter

of what we once worshipped,

our eyes at last opened to a new awakening:

who really is the supreme Lord of the Dance,

and the meaning of why we exist.

The King’s Tableland Speaks

The Mountain calls seekers

yearning to set foot on celestial ground,

rivulets trickle down from face cliffs

and clear water flows through rock faces,

layers of patterns and shapes crystallise

from my luminous dream,

cultural maps drawn from sinews of veined

passages recording past lives

from 22,000 years ago, reincarnating

the breadth and depth of stories told and untold,

my shadow blends into the narratives

on the boulders, on the tessellated rocks,

and in the coolamon of old, shimmering

like a looking glass that mirrors ancient traditions

and testaments of lives lived over the ages

traced from the remnants of grinding grooves

and flake stones, and here I have found

another way to see our God.

© Deborah Ruiz Wall, Wentworth Falls, 6 April 2022

Interview with Deborah Ruiz Wall