Good Things Only #17

It has been a while since I have embarked on a GTO (or much in the way of creative writing at all for that matter). I have been otherwise occupied. Why? Happily, the reason is the subject of this GTO.

In retirement I developed my habits of walking, cycling and writing into something more like lifestyle choices. Combined with photography, I found myself outside often, roaming in new places, observing with pleasure, feeling fortunate and interested in the many ways and forms of life and ecosystems around me. It costs little, the prep is fun, the exercise is great and every outing opens your eyes that much wider and your mind expands that much further and you just feel good.

I found myself privileged. Here in Victoria there are so many diverse natural places to savour. Even where environmental degradation has occurred there is often evidence life will find a way. (Whether with or without humans takes on less and less significance exploring as an individual. You barely register on the scale of things so you don’t matter one little bit. You are simply lucky to be there and to bear witness).

I started mapping, photographing and describing these places for others to share. It seemed a good retirement project – to spread the feelings of well being experienced in diverse green spaces . To identify low cost beneficial outdoor activities for other people. To put walkers in these spaces as discoverers of beauty and advocates for deterring misuse and champions of habitat improvement.

Since then I have been asked to transform this hobby into project work for local government and a health promotion charity. As grateful for such opportunities as I am, and as good as that has been, I now finally get to the specific subject of this GTO.

Over the past six months I have been working on a new and wonderful project: “Walking and Rolling: accessible walking paths for people with disability”. Our inclusive team has co-designed an audit tool for assessing walking paths for accessibility. I have been co-auditing accessible walks beside people with disability.

We launched the first 24 Victorian accessible walks last week in a joyful celebration on a glorious day. We have made the audit tool publicly available as a free to use resource for people with disability, carers, families and land managers to do their own assessments and publish accessible walks they identify. Accessible walks are for everyone. There are more to come.

This is an incredibly worthy GTO for me to have fallen into. To my colleagues and the people with disability who have helped make this happen, I will be appreciative to the end of my days. In the meantime, let’s keep going!

I did it for my babies

I sobbed while I banged my head on the dock
I lit the fuse tick tock tick rock
With nowhere to go I ran amok
because I knew no one gave a fuck

and my children died inside the conflagration
while outside I died as a witness stationed
to watch this act as the ultimate martyr
from lover to mother to miserable failure

now my babies don’t suffer anymore don’t you see?
their loss was my hope for my babies three
their release from torment my relief and my grief
I their life giver corrupter and thief

I scratched at the doors where help is the word
I pleaded for help and not one cry was heard
I make no further excuses for this desperate crime
judge me oh judge me and I’ll do my time

but I urge you who judge to stop and reflect
on the festering harm of abuse and neglect
on how absence of care equals opportunity cost
from pitiful existence my babies were lost


As dry as the land

Night’s last lingering cool breath
Marks the beginning of the end
As we rouse and arouse
Sleepily rising and realising
This cannot, must not, ever happen again

Bidding farewell to the events of the dark
With butterfly kisses and nuzzles
Tears of grief dwell, well and fall
As we own everything and commit to nothing more

For the first time, the last time we lie together
We listen in silence as another day’s hot outback wind
Begins to worry the doors and windows
And again rattle at the foundations of our lives

It’s the same drought wind that has been blowing forever
Forever keeping us apart no matter how much we lean into it
It keeps blowing us backwards to where we came from
It marks our passing back into life as it really is
Demanding and obligating with survival at its core
As dry as the land, as gritty as the sand

Bruised

I’m feeling a little bruised
a little rushed a little used
when you turn your whip like tongue on me
a little crushed and very confused

when you say that I’m not worth it
yet you keep on coming back
I decide that I’ll stick with it
and then you call me slack

yes I’m a sucker for punishment
my friends all tell me that
but really I’m a sucker for nourishment
I pray for it after every spat

I hate you and I love you
I tell you and relent
then you diss me and you kiss me
never knowing what each one meant

you don’t hit me or spit on me
you don’t go out with another
you just discard me like a soiled rag
whenever you think I’m a bother

then you take me back when it suits
knowing you'll always have the boots
to stand over me til I breakdown
to abuse me when I meltdown

I crave to be better, yet I'm a weak nag
always with one hand reaching for an escape bag
but I turn back from every open door
I pathetically keep coming back for more

then as I slide down every jamb
lamb to slaughter, slaughtered lamb
self esteem slides with me, to the floor we sag
and I gag and I gag and I gag

I see myself for what I have become
I know I'm not the only one
It isn't something helpful to know
others also powerless if they stay, powerless to go