Today I leave the usual side and ride my bike
along the southern river shoreline.

I move through the cliffs of Jennalup Blackwall Reach
and arrive at Dyoondalup Point Walter.
I take a seat along the line that runs up
from the water, between the trees,
and inland.

I sit still and wait.
And it arrives—a much more feminine direction
than the side I am used to—
a softer entry onto the Earth.

I sit there, and realise, that this line of land
points more or less directly across to Galbamaanup 
Lake Claremont on the other side,
while looking upriver you can see 
the bushland near the 
Sunset Retirmenet Village in Nedlands,
as well as up to Heathcote 
on this southern side.

***

Late afternoon I’m walking upriver 
towards Mosman Park from Gurungup North Fremantle,
past the hill with the signs of the dingo brothers,
underneath the power lines,
a grove of trees on the left-hand side.

I walk over the little rise and down the 
hill to the small wetland with running water and spring,
down to the beach,
and up the walkway towards the golf course,
Jennalup again on the other side.

***

In the evening I’m listening to the world news, not watching,
as I’ve taken to, and after the headlines,
there’s a story about the children of Sudan—
around 8 million—who aren’t being educated—
“working merely to survive.”

Something breaks,
and something breaks through.

***

Later, I’m contemplating the reason for all this,
all this journeying from duration to now
to whatever comes next.

Whether a planet of love might in fact
be possible.

Is this whole exercise worth it, I wonder.
All for freedom, and the freedom to love.

And then I decide to surrender.
I focus on the word itself.
And another comes with it—forgiveness.

And then breaking breaks through a little more,
onto a field that answers its own questions.

The feeling in me is: yes, it’s worth it.
The feeling in me is:
I must make it worthwhile.