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February 29, 2020

This is a fragment from a larger piece I have been playing with for some time. McKellar’s wonderful poem, ‘My Country’, is part of my cultural baggage: here was a poem that celebrated what others shook their heads at.

I love this many-island country drifting slowly in the planet,

This Great South Land is part of me and I of it – my Home I call it:

Its red-soiled scrubs like heartbeats, constant, quiet, relentless;

Its ancient forests from Gondwana crown the eastern mountain spine;

The inland sea now dust and salt beneath the vast blue skies

That ache my eyes and stretch my mind, shrinking self-importance.

This place for me is like my breath, my heart’s beat, the stillness in my centre. 

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