She takes you in, much the way the spider webs a fly.
She doesn’t care if you prevail and make it out alive.
She’ll take it all from you and give you nothing in return;
She leaves it up to you to find the solitude you yearn.
Perhaps you’ll find a good place to pitch a tarp tonight,
Perhaps away from all the things that scratch, sting or bite.
Perhaps, but perhaps not; you can only try your best.
Perhaps you’ll get the sleep you crave, now you’ve earned your rest.
Listen in the night to wombats burrow below,
Listen, try to sleep, but something nips at your toes,
Listen as the wind picks up and whistles for rain;
Listen, night goes to bed and day wakes up again.
You process wood and make changes to your camp.
You must keep dry; all your clothes are cold and damp.
You push back all thoughts of doubtful relevance.
You fill your shyness-cup with total silence.
Do not wait for thirst to tell you to drink.
Do not ignore the last coal-ember’s wink.
Do not do something to damage your health,
Do not, unless you can rescue yourself.
No-one that matters knows where you are.
No-one will locate your burned-out car.
No-one has noticed that you are gone;
No-one, by your absence, overborne.
See the python unhinge its jaws,
See the raptor stoop, flex its claws,
See the pale egret stab its prey;
See how small lives end each day.
My veins are like those in leaves
My skin is the bark on trees
My blood rushes in rivers
My breath the grasses shiver.
Strip away all your clothes
Strip away all of those
Strip down to your bare skin
Strip down, and start again.
Bee’s legs pollen-packed
Bee’s travels are tracked
Bee’s treasure raided
Bee’s ire evaded.
Eyes wake to light
Eyes focus sight
Eyes hunt ahead
Eyes close for bed.
Lost for words,
Left the ‘burbs.
Looked for quiet;
Erik Kaisson, 2017