8.11.23

I was sent off with a pouring sky but the rain never made it to Gunnedah
I left without hugging my mother goodbye
My tooth cracked on the last day I packed my bags
I spat the remnants into my Grandmother’s rosebush
Bone and seed rematriated

I’m 2 hours and 100 years away from my Country
80 years of hidden people
All I know is open planes, the sound of the wind in Murrurundi
and how to listen
I know about the matriarchal left foot first

Grandmother squeezed me as I left, all Gorgio and bosom
Enough to make the bombs stop falling
In Falastin
If only the bombs in the East
Would cease
If only
Those people would be open to feeling something beating
Some kind of human
Some kind
Human
Something

Falastin
The day I left my hometown, they were bombing Gaza
I went to West Timor, they were still bombing Gaza
The perch layed her eggs in the Namoi, they hatched, they went
I moved states and they were still bombing Gaza
There’s a poem I’m trying to make my way back to but they’re still
Bombing
Gaza

Poem
Way back
Falastin
Will come back