Sunday, March 22, 2015

King's Creek (Watarrka Kuningka)...

I stand here
in reverence & silence,
here in Nature Mother's cathedral.
The birds, flies & crickets
unite as one choir,
singing their songs
& hymns of praise.
Above me, 
canyon walls from
time immemorial
(20,000,000+ human years)
look down on me
like ancient, sacred
stainglassed windows.

Looking up at them,
I feel reflected
back at me
my very soul.
Is this the
"wild life"
Brother Billy 
referred to?
I close my eyes,
& in the silence I hear
the tiny flap flap flapping
of butterfly wings;
of birds' hearts
beat beat beating
beneath feathered chests;
& tree frogs' eyes
blink blink blinking.

The red soil that stains
my boots and clothes
has seeped into my
sweat and skin.
Wind hisses through trees,
stirs something
deep inside my core,
my very essence & being.
I can now feel
the red soil
inside my veins,
my bloostream.
I feel it silently
traveling up up upwards
to my open, waiting
(wanting?) heart.

I have become one
with this sacred site now.
My heart, my insides,
my very cells & dna,
they all fill
with nature
& with rapture.
I am alive.
I am alone. Yet not.
The sky splits open
in the most intense blue
I have ever seen
- even in dream.
I am here.
Here in the
deafening silence.
And for the
second time
in six weeks:
I see god.

(c) Brent Harpur 2015.

“The desert, when the sun comes up... I couldn't tell where heaven stopped and the Earth began."
(Tom Hanks) 

“I asked him if it were a mirage, and he said yes. I said it was a dream, and he agreed, But said it was the desert's dream not his. And he told me that in a year or so, when he had aged enough for any man, then he would walk into the wind, until he saw the tents. This time, he said, he would go on with them."
(Neil Gaiman)

Thursday, March 19, 2015

Uluru, Pt. 1...


Tear open my skies!!

In a sacred place where blood-like soil bleeds into my soles & soul, bless me with new eyes;

I am so small, so insignificant, a tiny grain of sand in an alien landscape...

I am so, so far from home, & yet: And yet I am home.

Home in the company of a friend & stranger I have known for fourteen days & a thousand years.

Home with a special someone who leads me without leading, who gives me so so much without giving.

A gentle, kindred flame wise beyond her years.

Who, like you, Uluru:

Gently tears open my skies, & offers me:

The sacred fires of poetry,
of nature,
of innocence & wisdom,
of trust...


(c) Brent Harpur 2015.

 "After nine days I let the horse run free / 'Cause the desert had turned to sea."
 (America, 'The Horse With No Name'.)

“I have always loved the desert. One sits down on a desert sand dune, sees nothing, hears nothing. Yet through the silence something throbs, and gleams..."
(Antoine de Saint-Exupéry)

Saturday, February 14, 2015

Venus and the moon...

You have given this poet back his
words, and this blind man back his eyes.

When we are far apart,
separated even by continents,
think of this moment.

When you do, I will
get that spidery feeling
on the back of my legs and neck
and know you are still with me

because we believed in trust
and we believed in love
and we believed in chocolate
and poetry and spring rolls
and sex and intimacy.

You are so beautiful.

When she sighs, she gives me back my eyes.

We have been together for seven days
and a thousand years. I am no longer afraid.

“Don’t disappear,” she said,
and so I stayed.

I am no longer afraid of all my fuck ups and mistakes.
I am no longer afraid of love and all the strange forms it takes.

To anyone who knows you, this would not come as a surprise.
But you really have given me back my eyes.

Don’t disappear.

We really are two wandering poets
of the same kin,
sharing words
like goosebumps on skin.


(c) Brent Harpur, Feb 2015.

2am Melbourne Airport...

It would be too obvious
for this poet to say he misses you
(although he misses you more
than any words can say).
Standing in the cold,
I glance up and see a beautiful, low-hanging moon.

She has a huge chunk missing from her side.

My bus arrives and as I silently board,
I look up at her one last time.
I give her a wink & a cheeky, knowing smile.

And with a tear in my eye,
I whisper under my breath:

"I know how you feel."


(c) Brent Harpur, 10/2/2015.

A few centimetres taller...

This morning I have awoken to find that my feet stretch a little over the length of my bed. Perhaps the bed has shrunk in the night? Or perhaps, it is I who has grown a few centimetres?? Wiggling my toes (as they dangle in mid-air over the edge of the mattress) I feel like I am levitating a little. Defying gravity, but still in an inert, horizontal position.

But wait...

I have also realised that the width of my bed (on either side of me) has changed. It now seems to stretch on for miles & miles on either side of my naked body. I shiver. Where once I seemed to occupy most of the mattress, I now feel very tiny & small, almost as if I have awoken in the middle of a large valley or chasm.

I close my eyes tight, find my sheet and bury my head in my pillow (it still smells of you)... I intuitively reach out for a warm, jigsaw piece-fit of a hand. But it is not there.
I shiver again. But this time from desire & memory, not of fear.

I fall into a deep sleep, and in my dream my tiny/huge bed has become a boat... I cast off from the shore, into uncharted waters, with only the memory of your warm embrace and the stars to guide me...

It is true. I cannot see those stars very well. But you, you my dear (and you alone): You have given me something stronger than all the constellations I cannot see and these charts I cannot read.

You have given me:


And love...

And magic. 

(c) Brent Harpur 11/2/2015.