The Wild

Last night - around 1:30 in the morning I was woken by glasses clinking - first thought was: A ghost! - the ghost of my lover threading her etherial body around this home, this house she once began to settle into as her own. I am not beyond coming into direct contact with an etherial being - formless but alive - so, to another form of wild energy:

Opening the door, there in my path a possum scurrying about - back and forth on itself wondering what to do next as this tall human figure emerged from the house. To be honest, my sad first thought was a gun. So many years as a farmer’s son: “The only good possum is a dead one” - And as I switched on my torch - watched the startled creature ascend the veranda beam, my mind quietened to a different pace.

Turn off the light, take a piss in the starlight and ponder upon this encounter with wildness. That sense that you do not know what this creature will do - would it run up my leg? Scratch me? I thought later that perhaps I could in complete contrast to my memories - get down on all fours and galavant around the porch with it. Be in concert with it’s not knowing - with its animal instinct to play, fight, flee - who knows - maybe next time - but definitely not the gun.

Grief

Time