when it’s done

when it’s done

and there’s no more talk of present tense

or chanting in the streets for change

because the chance has come to pass

the complication’s over and the raid has won at last

the trains will move

and we will too

to work and feed and bathe and sleep

and every day will pass as though

we never learnt a thing

when it’s done

and what might have made us stop

facts or fakes or fear

truth until she disappeared

burning children, burning tents

genocidal accidents

or a phrase they said was hate

because it stood for everyone

a father wailing on our screens

holding his headless son

a holocaust we may have stopped

had they all looked more like us

the days will pass

and we will think

without the weight

without our hearts

because we can

because it’s done

despite our thoughts and words they’re gone

we’ll say we tried

we used our voice

and what a shame it didn’t work

but still we tried

some more than most

although it doesn’t matter now

and though we said never again

we all forget again somehow

when it’s done

and they’re all gone

will it still be complicated?

before bed

we wash our hands

fresh water used to cleanse our sins

the guilt that’s far too much to bear

the children’s missing limbs

draining out of sight and mind

with hollow words of love and care

now it’s done

we carry on

the students go to school

and the skies are blue again

I can buy the things I like

without a word from someone else

it’s safe to talk about myself

and what they’re wearing to the Met

now that there’s no one left to save

I take the train til I forget.

parasite

no matter how aware I am of the adversity faced by those around and far from me, my dependence on external validation cripples every step and thought I make. this parasite sucks time and joy, forever injecting its poisonous vanity and self obsession into my very being. I wish I could swat it out. every day I watch footage of bombs dropping on schools and children crying for parents and parents mourning children slaughtered by armed forces funded by my own taxes. every night I walk past people sleeping on park benches or sidewalks as I make my way home to a hot cup of tea. I know the world is so much bigger than my own insecurity. and yet the parasite stings. please like me. please like me. please. do I impress you? am I important? do you miss me? will I matter? have you forgotten?

I distract myself from the knowledge that none of this matters in the face of a race doomed to destruction by its own hands. the insecurities come to play, and more often than not they keep me from facing this bigger problem. but I also spend time with others. this helps. I feel loved sometimes and for a moment, without ever realising at the time, I’m no longer fixated on everything wrong with myself or this world. I feel love for people and I hold that in my heart. it helps.

I miss Jenae already but really haven’t stopped since she left. distraction. she joins the ranks of people I love and can no longer hold, at least for now. a lot of missing. a lot of longing for time and distance to mean a lot less. distraction. <<

Jenae

I said goodbye to Jenae tonight. a group of us went out to drinks to wish her well on her new adventure - moving states tomorrow for her dream job. I feel a deep sense of pride for her, having had the privilege of witnessing her persevere through chaos and discomfort only to come out on top. at the same time there is an emptiness that surfaces in her absence.

Jenae has been a godsend since I came back to Sydney this year. I tried to write her a letter to articulate how grateful I’ve been for all she has done and been for me, but I quickly realised that words fail when it comes to capturing something so precious. it’s a little like Lewes really - I try time and again to tie those feelings and experiences to words, but no combination ever truly comes close fo capturing it all.

it made sense at the time. we leant into each other in the midst of our respective crises. I don’t think either of us really expected it to transform and take the life it did. we speak our own language now. time spent together is like being home, and never enough. we drink tea and eat chocolate and listen to each other. built on the foundations of vulnerability, and a complete lack of walls or filters, this friendship has blossomed into a unique moment in time: in the face of extreme uncertainty in myself and the world, I’ve found something remarkable to keep in my heart.

I think of how it felt to leave Lewes, to hug Jan or Nash or Eliu goodbye. the last tea in room 53. the closing of that chapter, a time capsule that had been so much more than I could ever have anticipated. there’s something to be said about this sentiment in the context of saying goodbye to a friend with whom I’ve accidentally created a whole world. but again, I don’t have the words. I just don’t want to forget.

how lucky I am to have so much to miss. <<

in a tent

the time slips like water through my fingers. I close my eyes and dream until they open again. the nights are getting colder now, and sometimes I miss home - mum and dad must be lighting fires by now. the ginger cat from a few doors down visits me out the back as I hang my laundry on the line. I watch him stretch in the pockets of shade from branches lurching over the tin shed roof.

anger and confusion in my heart. I see a lot that upsets me on my phone. sometimes I think I could be going mad. I sleep in a tent at the university and feel less alone in my helplessness. at the rallies I listen to the calls for peace and an end to the killings. tears come and I curse the human project to which I’m bound.

I escape myself and spend time with friends. Jenae leaves next week to chase an adventure for which she has worked so very hard. her friendship and kindness have done wonders for me, and I know I’ll feel her absence, just as I miss those I love and can no longer hold close. friends back home and friends abroad. people I’ve lost and still hold in my heart. distance or time or whatever other reason.

I lie in a tent at the university. the men in suits use big words and drop bombs on the children that should see tomorrow but won’t. I am small and insignificant in the face of a species that draws closer each breath to self assassination. and still I think of the places and people I miss and I’ve been like they matter at all. <<

Zendaya looks amazing

I scroll through my phone in my search for some shred of sense to cling to. 1.6 million civilians cornered in what had once been labelled a safe zone by the oppressor. the bombing has begun. fathers fall from buildings and mothers weep over the lifeless limbs of their beloved children. but there’s a party in new york and it’s a whole lot prettier. the guests look divine, ethereal even. glamour spills from the red carpet as the masses cry for more. we look on in awe at the beautiful creatures. it’s a lot easier. if we scroll fast enough we won’t hear the screams or see the bombs drop. and why should we? - our days are hard enough without the weight of all that. after all, it’s all just too complicated.

I scream in shame at the human project to which I am bound. <<

on and off

it’s been raining on and off for a while now. the days and nights are colder now. winter before too long. some days there is very little time spent outside. some days I forget an umbrella. the rain covers over everything and I don’t miss the heat of summer for a second.

the presence of a new job fuels my excuses for not thinking beyond necessity and what it is I need. I am tired because of work. I haven’t written in weeks because of work. I am yet to find something to audition for because of work. projecting blame for my own inability to take responsibility for how my time and energy is spent. whilst pathetic, I see what I am doing and want to work towards change.

I eat and I wash and I sleep. I spend time with friends and they make me laugh. on my phone I see people dying. there’s an encampment on campus in front of the old building - the one the settlers modelled after Oxford or Cambridge. I slept over on Friday in a tent with people I used to live with. a teacher told us about her experience making movies with Palestinian children living in camps over the course of 18 years. she kept talking and would nod her head in a way that reminded me of my mother’s cousins in Italy. at the rally today Palestine was referred to as the university of the world - from which we are all learning more about the destruction and devastating lack of humanity our species are capable of.

I think about this human project and try to rationalise existing as an inherently self-interested being despite my awareness of the cruelness of this world. sometimes I wonder about where this is all going, though I still eat chocolate and shave my face and spend money on things I don’t really need. existing peacefully in this feels paradoxical.

in the face of a lack of sense I’m drawn in and out of half remembered dreams of people I miss and moments in time I’ve lost to the past. I wake and I stretch and I boil the kettle. the faces blur and by breakfast I remember little more than how I felt in the liminal space between sleep and knowingly being. <<