Song To The Some in A World on Fire

As an Australian / British girl raised between Sydney and the Southern Highlands in NSW I grew up with horses. I used to ride through the bush amidst herds of kangaroos. That was my life. My holidays were spent surfing everywhere I could, up and down the coast, from Sydney to Byron Bay to QLD’s Sunshine Coast. I have family in Cairns, so even that part of the world means something to me. Deep in my heart, this land is my home.

Further south, on the border of NSW and Victoria, a town called Mallacoota meant a great deal to me. That town is now no more. It has burnt to the ground. It was filled with mud-brick houses of the most extraordinary architectural designs. Multi-coloured windows made out of the bottom of bottles. These people have lost their entire town. That place where I woke up on the deserted beach one morning in my sleeping bag as dolphins rode in on the waves.

Such is life in Australia. It is a land of wonder. Magic. Nature. Where earth and sea meet our spirits and sail, fly, ride with us. There is no spirit quite like an Australia spirit. Not for me, in any case. I love so much about that country. This is my prayer to you, this song: 

Song To The Some (From A Fellow Phoenix):

Though in truth
I am lost for words
here begins my
song to the some.
It’s all I have,
my prayer,
my meagre something,
my plea to The Power,
The Sum of Life,
for assurance that
everything will
somehow be ok.

That those who have
lost all will find some
glimmer in a clear-skyed tomorrow and beyond.
That some light,
by some miracle,
will emerge along the
cracks of your
scorched heartland,
despite the dream-now-embers,
still so hot to the touch.
Despite despite despite.

You cannot yet imagine
the gum shoots which will
surely burst out from
this ashen landscape.
Yet yet yet.
Cannot imagine welcoming
that spiteful sunlight
upon your lawn,
not whilst under this shadow, this billowing tornado of fire.
Yet yet yet.

So let us imagine,
on your behalf,
that one day soon,
in this life,
some way,
the crackle will go quiet,
the air float through,
a new home emerge
sure as the phoenix.

To the some of you,
my fellow surfing sunners,
my eucalypt babies,
my laughing tree-swoopers
pouncing scraggle bush fairies, swept up in this
war with the elements;
from the sum of us to
your so many somes,
this is my meagre offering
Song By Rebecca Rennie FREYjA


© FREYjA R Rennie January 2020 

(Photo by )

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