(Tiri Tiri Matangi Island ~ My Lighthouse Home as it was)
Rounded rocks glisten with each lap, lap, lap
of small splashes learning to become waves
On the western side of my island home
great life is born to play
In a magical place that holds
the essence of many souls
Whispering to each now gone
Never forget, here you stay
At the southern end of the island
stands a lighthouse
Phallic pride has remained intact
for over one hundred and fifty years
Dressed in rough white cement
cast iron spiral steps climb steeply to the lamp
Each smoothly boasting of every sole met
every soul they’ve ever touched
Guiding a tenacious young child
crawling to the top, without fear
On the eastern side of paradise
comes Venus before the Sun
Skipping purposely across the ocean
to gradually light the shores
A departing moon concedes
and fades high above the west
Switched off, like midnight’s stars
now the lighthouse sleeps
as the dawn temptress shows
an island’s nakedness to the world
There is a special little cove
set within the northern shores
If you dig very carefully
you will find ancient fossils in the rock
Perhaps a tiny shell complete
with a snail’s million year old dreams
Laying unseen, meaning nothing to those
not blessed to learn of life this way
In nature’s classroom, on an island home
I learned to be, who I am today
Early morning sea breeze mists
cloak the stillness of my hopes
with a deep urge to search in haste
for mushrooms, freshly spawned
Always there before the sunrise
breakfast anticipation known for its taste
Across wet paddocks, no time to rest
for white gold shines, in filtered light
Buckets to fill with only the very best
Progress, change and adapt
became my family’s Darwinian call
Although evolution’s cost will always
bring degrees of sadness to all
hearts attached to one’s prior home
A city was such an alien place
with so few paddocks to explore
It seemed my rural ways would not fit
so I had to learn, a whole lot more
As opposites attract I married a city girl
who zealously clung to her city ways
far beyond a lighthouse’s sweeping light
and seabirds haunting calls at night
A pretty city face and pretty heart
with absolutely no rural island clue
Young raised in city ways had to do
Though always I clung to the hope
that one day I could share
What finding wild fruit really means
to every country kid lost within a city
where even nature struggles to cope
People are so very different
in the things they value most
Sadly where we come from
often means, we don’t always agree
On how important wild mushrooms are
when found before fully grown
Or how special every splash is
to any worn and rounded stone
or to any city child who doesn’t see
the power of nature at her best
Or to every country kid who confessed
nature makes him, happy just to be
All country kids start out
with pretty faces, pretty hearts
But many never truly understand
the city ways and its pulsing energies
So they struggle adapting to new ways
and that growing importance to be seen
as something they are not inside
irrespective of the theme
Believing that city kids like to move on
without missing, places they have been
All city kids start out
with pretty faces, pretty hearts
But many will never truly understand
or even care less, what it is to be
a child alone before the sunrise
searching for a special taste
Greeting each days dawn with
all the anticipation that it takes
To learn firsthand nature’s ways
and every subtle move she makes
In time, so many pretty faces
and pretty hearts change to ugly
When they lose self esteem
learn to bully, or learn to be mean
How I’ve always wondered, perhaps naively
Why some people feel, that angry need to be
What if all country and city kids
cared about each other, without fear
If they understood their uniqueness
and why others are different here
Would that not make them
more balanced and able to see
Why they have pretty faces, pretty hearts
and every chance, to just agree
I’ve always missed my island home
What its natural beauty meant to me
How I learned to believe in uniqueness
found isolation teaches us to be brave
And how important life truly is
to worn rounded rocks and every tiny splash
when learning to become a wave…
*~ Pearldiver ~
Copyright © 2009 Rob Welsh – Pearldiver with all rights reserved.
Cheers Dean – yep a longggg journey indeed… I grew a beard both living it & writing it!
The last four lines made the long journey to Poems-end worth it, Rob!