Monday, March 14, 2011

birds of passage ( warning : personal rambling follows )

just over eight years ago the house i was living in was destroyed by fire
i didn't lose everything i owned, i lost a lot, but not everything
we were lucky in the end . . . and no lives were lost . . .

i had insurance, things that could be replaced were,
things that were lost were lost,
things that were reparable were repaired . . .

there is now a new place to live
new things have been collected
more 'things' from life's journey,
beautiful and meaningful bits and pieces to furnish
my home, physical things, belongings, stuff . . .
i have in many senses of the word . . . recovered

it was a hard year that year,
but in the end,
that year i lost something grater than the home i lived in,
a few months later
i lost a friend who meant the world to me . . .
he still walks the earth
but the loss of him in my day to day
was more than the loss of my home . . .
and it is the bit that still is broken
still cracked, still lost . . .

in the end, despite all the trials that the human condition
can go through, the loss we have seen in our
back yard this year here in brisbane, and in our wider earth
through earthquakes and tsunami's it is the
people that are lost that make our hearts break beyond repair sometimes

all those years ago, a dear friend of mine
painted me a little drawing of a bird in a nest
as a housewarming present for the new home i moved to after the fire

the drawing still sits today
at the entrance to my home
there is a quote under the drawing that says . . .

we are but birds of passage and must build our nests
out of what materials we can find
- lady wilson

i made this into a quote tag a month ago, and although it
isn't the most popular new tag picked by my stockists
it was an important one to make . . .
the words are true i think
the words are how we must live . . .
for we are just that

we are birds of passage

and some days are easier than others
some are harder . . .
today is the later

my prayers go out to the world as it continues to weep

(photo above taken on my last trip out west
of a birds nest in the hedge at the front of my oma's house,
a little nest covered by a tangled and strong hedge of jade )

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