Water

Poem By Anthony Dawson

Water seduced me in my early days

offering me the eyes of a fish,

the trust of a baby in mothers arms.

I still rest my feet at the edge of the river

where the trees viewed the haste of

exploration, competition;

witnessed the spilling of blood;

cockatoo’s screeching:

‘Fucking murder’!



Branches transmit static with the wind

as all voice is lost.

Earth painted feet climb the bank,

look down upon the current;

it abducted me when young,

with no warning

and whispered to me:

Why do you embrace my journey?

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