The Heartscape Of My Hands (The Mouth Of Our Hunger)

Hands have always fascinated me and in 2005 I wrote this poem as a way of exploring human suffering.

 

The Heartscape Of My Hands (The Mouth Of Our Hunger)

I cast my hands around empty streets,
Sending my fingers in search of men at prayer.

See the heartscape of my hands,
They tell you more than I can say.

In me death is bound by division,
Touching the mouth of our hunger.

Yet you know we will always change,
Though we will always seem the same.

Hands hammered onto nails :                                                                                                             Nails yielding from the martyrs song –
How he beholds the work of men.

Your blood flows into the sea of human kindness :
Mingled with the blood of hate –
Where side by side we thirst for the charms of his suffering.

Within us we see eyes raised above the self,
And from the human clock tick seasons which cannot be measured.

My eyes study their pupils my pupils study their eyes,
Each transfixed in the abyss of the other.

 

© R.J. Hudson 2005.

 

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.

Patch the Wounds (Possess the Huntress)

I wrote this poem in 1989, after falling in love for the first time. During time I wore all black, which reflected how I felt inside. 1989-1994 were the darkest years if my life. A time in which the discovery of love parallelled my discovery of pain, anger and rage.  This poem represents an early effort to express pain and joy and spiritual seeking in one poem.  Although it’s a pretty lame piece of writing, it marks a distinct period in my life. I spent several years struggling to express myself and in 1989-1990, I finally became comfortable with poetry as a medium.

Patch the Wounds (Possess the Huntress)

Farewell to the sinking burden,
I shall revel in your love.
Take me under,
Embrace my dreams,
Exchange suffering when our souls collide.

Don’t call me don’t call me,
Leave me to hide.

Shed that which seems normal and cast aside.
Tear the ribbon of life,
Cleanse the fire of pride.

I lurch at you
Dancing upon heart warmed coals.
Cloak and dagger conceals this warrior’s holes.

Shadowing eyes patch the wounds.
A thousand years linger onwards,
Seeking centre searching self,
Wandering in slumber.
I whisper to the secret within.

Oh dare ye possess the huntress ?

© R.J. Hudson 1989.