This is a poem I wrote inspired by Solastalgia, the Save the Yakamia Forest campaign in Kinjarling-Albany, and the bi-centennial since European settlement in this town.
Said the past to the future:
“How could I make you understand?
This is not the house to which I was born
Where it once stood rise a grey block of flats
This is not the meadow in which I would play
A sea of black roofs now stand in the way
This is not the forest nor the birds in the trees
It was cut down and sold off for tar and cement
Just a blink of the eye and a childhood erased
Like it never existed, no proof to show you
The baseline shifts as you swim in hot water."
Said the future to the past:
“You’re right I don’t understand, not sure I care
For the ghosts of your past are no longer there
Don’t forget it was you who paved the path I now walk
The path before me burns raw with consequence
Could it be red with the fires of progress?
Or scarlet with dread ‘til black ashes of death?
I wander half blind with no rudder or map
No time to dwell on the past, no chance to turn back.”
Said the present to the past and the future:
“Hold my hands both of you, we’re in this together
No-one need ever trek this worn path alone
From the past we can learn of the world that once was
Learn from our mistakes, all the things that we’ve lost
The future reminds us that time marches on
To gather what’s now and mold each new moment
The present is where both ends of time meet
The choices we make weaved together and now
If we’re to set rest the ghosts of the past
If we’re to guide the future with a rudder and map.”