Monday, February 21, 2011

Missing person at Coonar Beach

This – this is the place
we would walk for miles
from deserted beach to
      deserted beach
We were human sundials
forerunners to any crowds

We were clear
of all the others
in love
in the love of
ourselves, each other, the world that
contained us – reaching to the blue arc of horizon –
wrapped in warmth and a gentle breeze
wrapped in light.

Somehow you knew this time was ours,
      yours and mine.
I’m not sure my mind rested so
but it rode on the coattails
of your vigour
your romance
your rose-coloured glasses – and mine.

We breathed in the blueness
'til it drove us back to the bedroom
back to our bodies
back to basics.

Now the horizon is all mine.
For a while there, I didn’t know what to do with it – it looked so empty and flat, for a time.

But here, back where we started, the world
swallows me whole
warms me, caresses me
feeds and nurtures me
with quite a sight to behold
– to the ends of the ocean,
the tips of the earth.

It watches through an eagle eye,
this lone ranger just trying to fit in
among nostalgia that comes in waves,
carried on currents, upon
the breeze, all through such days.

This is still my time – yours is no longer part of mine.
But you are here – a spirit – drifting
gently between the she-oaks who
sway so slightly, so constantly,
as they did in the beginning, the
middle, and the end of what was.

Here, now, I am not turned on,
not high as a Kite, but I stay with
my feeling of something missing, until
this time transforms the world
with its alchemy. And, hey presto –
there’s nothing missing at all.

© 2009 Justine Reilly

Saturday, February 19, 2011


He reminds me of my contrivance.
With a start, my fragility wakes;
it had only just begun to rest,
taking a well-earned breath
after overwork, overstretching.

It's just a hair's breadth, so the wise
woman said,
between one state and another,
and as the white panic of imminence struck
she counted the pebbles beneath her.

It happens to be happenstance
that brings us to this here and now.
Such things cannot be contrived, you see
for they're easy to tame as a bonfire.

Let my words fly into the night, into
air, flickering, travelling to nothing.
Let not my thoughts be controlled by regret,
for happenstance plays, sways and quickens.

© 2009 Justine Reilly

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Storm surges

This is how it will look:
A storm surge resulted
in huge waves pounding the coast for a thousand miles
This is how it will look:
A red dragon on a weather map

This is how it will look:
Rolling out of bed to witness another national natural disaster
May not go global though - No reported loss of human life
at this time;

Extremely dangerous sea levels;
"Like a runaway train";
Don't become complacent once the winds die down

This is how it will look.

© Justine Reilly 2011

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Stoney Creek

I'm alone with nature, but I'm scared
by the potential arrival of a beer-swilling rapist.