The Probability of God’s Inflexion

I have spent most of my life trying to understand the world without and the world within. Sometimes understanding is beyond me and in this poem I explore the one thing I think I really do understand.

 

The Probability of God’s Inflexion

The probability of god’s inflexion upon all life
Is as unknowable as fate itself.
The tides of life and death sway to their own strange rhythm.
Each creature it’s own vessel of meaning
Each creature it’s own light of being.

And in my alien mind :
I imagine that an ant watches the black stretch enigma of a human road
With the same respect and acceptance as it watches the stars –
The mystery of isness as daunting as the mystery of death.

And in my alien mind :
I watch a bloody clash of ants and wonder how they can dump their dead
As if the act of death has taken away all honour and dignity –
Leaving the dead as meaningless as the mystery of empire.

But one creature among billions
Is nothing in the great sea of life.
Yet I – a simple human being think meaning is mine alone,
This folly of belonging to a species in which I cannot even understand my self.

Of all that is
I understand nothing.
Of all that really matters
I can find only love.
And in that love I find a god that is –
Is only is.
In one hand a thing that reaches out
In the other a thing that turns away
But in all things love.

 

© R.J. Hudson 2007.

The Last Light of the Day

Almost every day I walk 2-6 km. A few years ago I lived in a mountain range called Gariwerd, where every evening I would go for my walk and watch the sun go down. Living in the mountains we experienced at least 2 hours less daylight than people who lived outside of the range. I ended up missing the sun’s presence in my life and took every opportunity I could to bath in the last light of the day. I wrote this poem as a way of remembering what it felt like looking up at the mountains as the light dissapeared and darkness descended.

The Last Light of the Day

The last light of the day,
Climbs over the mountain.
A gentle crescent of light,
Saying farewell to the rocks and the trees.

Up there,
Far, far away –
The light looks so otherworldly,
Like light from another sun.

As it rises,
Each rock and tree
Catches on fire
And it’s essence burns brightly.

I can see God in that light.
God burning brightly,
From it’s own inextinguishable being –
And I am stunned into wonder.

My heart settles into a place beyond words.
A place where light creates space,
A space where light awakens the mind –
To the light within.

© R.J. Hudson 2015.

Heart of the Mountain of the Eagle

In 2004 we had a fire on the nearby sacred mountain Burra Burra (Mountain of the Eagle), which was started by a lady who lit fire to the toilet paper she had used to wipe her arse ! The fire burned 2/3rds of the mountain, cracked ancient petroglyphs, destroyed ancient grey box trees, burned wildlife and sent the spirits of the Aboriginal people (who had become my teachers and friends) away. I wrote this poem in 2007 as a homage to the people of Burra Burra. It is the first poem in a sequence of poems written at that time to remember my deceased friends and my favourite mountain.

 

Heart of the Mountain of the Eagle

Buurra waau,
Buurra burra wirrin kyinnya.

The Soul of the Mountain of the Crow
Sent me to the Heart of the Mountain of the Eagle for kinship of a white man.

And I found a place among your people.
Some where across the landscape of souls
I found this place and called it home.
You held me as a child
And nourished me with the dreamtime.
You entered me
And found my tender wounds.
You gathered sticks and leaves
To mend my broken heart.
In you I found my place among the stars
And in your fire I remembered where I came from.
On a cold hard rock you buried my fingers
And in love you healed my wounds.
My place is among you as yours is in my heart.

The Soul of the Mountain is Crying
Her Heart is Broken and her People are leaving.

Let it go
Set it free
And I will hold your memory,
Just as you held me.

 

© R.J. Hudson 2007.

Ovations of a Greening Spring

I have always loved the natural world. In 2006 I moved away from the inland home that I had loved to the coast (and have moved back again). I so missed the land that I knew so well, that I grieved my separation from it. In 2006-2007 I wrote a series of poems about teh natural world taht helped me to deal with my grief for both the place, animals and plants and Aboriginal spirits (with whom I had relationships with). This poem from 2007 was written to convey something of the suffering of animals and the nature of impermanance.

 

Ovations of a Greening Spring

Yes
I have seen empires of dirt sail skyward and heavenly silk descending.
Yes
I have seen ants wrestle with the gods and spiders that fall upon the earth.

But no hand of man has eased their toil
Or lifted the weight of their suffering.

The angels of the apocalypse dance silently
With a mob of homeless kangaroos.
And in the world between
Dead men and women sing songs to the god of fire.

From amidst the storm blue catharsis of a broken sky
Come swarms as unending as the path of history itself.

The seasons within twist and turn between head and heart
And shed their wings in the tall green grass.
Crimson flowers fall from the small victories of hope and denial
And shattered creatures reassemble.

From the greatest depths of man’s tormented soul
Come a flurry of nameless prayers.

Through bitter harsh words and gentle sideways glances
I at last see the tall ovations of a greening spring.
And the earth remains a place of restless change
The transparency of all life shimmering like a halo from the sun.

Oh father earth I hear you
Your screaming whisper has not gone unnoticed.

My heart open to all life as it really is here and now
I feel the cry of the ailing beast within.
And I know that some things will disappear forever
While man watches on lamenting what he cannot change.

We touch the web and we know that we are one
Ever onwards to some place far away.

The harmonic chords of love
Tame the vehicles of change inside this flesh.
And I know as all animals do
That nothing stays the same.

Oh mother earth ever yearning for the web to bind us.
Keep on turning that we might awake from our slumber.

Yes
I shall remember all life as it was.
Yes
I shall remember when we were one.

 

© R.J. Hudson 2007.