| WRITING |
| The Lost Soul
You came to drive her out of the back of her mind. But in the back of your mind there is doubt as to whether you have the right to be pursuing the root of her ‘madness’. She would offer it to you in all of its complexities but fear of the unknown would eat a hole in the fabric of your existence. You can be assured though that there are others like her who will hold a mirror to your soul. Copyright Katharine Annear 2005 |
| urchin spines
enquiring minds ponder the earth on its axis spine. their thoughts as fine as the lines in the coastal sands. unravelling the resonance and dissecting the magic under a middle class eyes. claiming wholesale connectivity to the earths voices. words washing up from a wave of tiredness. world weary from attempts to escape the clutches of the suburbs. ©Katharine Annear 2005 Words for Anangu Lands Enter sweet heady words that I may succumb to your seduction and find in you that which has been missing all these months let it unravel on the page for me to see. Will it take form . The form haunting my waking hours. If I could claim connectivity on the breath of the wind I would. Would that I was connected to those in other places would that I walk with them if only to feel their sorrow. I long for this day to be stretched out to be intoxicated by the heat and the words, the memories of a centre the country, the earth that ate my soul leaving it, digested, within me. Forever calling me back to something I have no knowledge of. Her mind moves farther away from her footsteps on the earth. ©Katharine Annear 2005 Urban Ritual She watches the tannin stain flood the water in the cup. Somewhere along the line someone has tried to encapsulate ritual in a bag. Her need for convenience denying her a connection to ceremony. She tried to buy the ceremony from the local Asian grocer, ornate teapot, small handle less cups, and tea that smelt more like a garden than a drink. The whole set up now gathers dust and an occasional comment sitting on a tray on the kitchen bench. As the bag floats to the top the water darkens obscuring the bottom. Am I as dark and bitter as I like my tea? She tosses the bag into the bin and sets the cup to cool. ©Katharine Annear2005 |