Bussell Highway, south of Vasse,
Wardandi Country. 
I have relatives who ran the general 
store here.
I don’t think I’ve every really been.

Yet this summer—this Birak—
I have been drawn out—
drawn through—
this place, again and
again. And in the four-
hour drive today, for 
some reason, this is the 
place that speaks to me 
most fully.

It says: “You’re back. 
I’m still here. 
Go on.
I come.”