the Upside Down

​

I ruminate over the word ~ sacred

as we sit quietly under the ancient tree

it holds eight hundred years in its branches

fifty generations in its leaves

I think about the first woman

cupped within its belly

like new life cupped in the womb

About her daughter

and her daughter’s daughter

What was here

on this spot where I sit,

so long ago

Orange segments squelch in my fist

as I peel rind from flesh

it doesn’t belong here

amongst the wattle and the eucalypt

just like I don’t belong here

but here I am

So I ponder the word ~ Respect

and my Responsibility

as a fourth generation immigrant

caramel is efflorescent in my skin

half of me from Lancashire

half of me from Zengcheng

And on posterity

on my daughter

on my daughter’s daughter

whether she will have the opportunity

to sit on dewy grass,

sucking on tropical fruit

absorbed in contemplation and reverie

in solidarity amidst the shadow of beautiful, bygone blood

or whether soon this spot will be all concrete

and fast cars

only a whisper left

of sanctity