Friday 16 July 2021

In the Grip of Death and Desire

 


 

If only, I could escape the memory of that intense pleasure we shared

Then maybe I could escape this pain

I bask in the sun of desire

Simultaneously becoming its slave

Ruled once by your tower

Now by God

Trying to construct the monument you desire

Reinventing myself in your image

You filled the hole

I endlessly pursue to fill

Hoping He will

You were in my grip

But now no longer

I’m searching for you incessantly

To walk down the aisle of heaven

To wed you for eternity

The tower was once my life

Now God’s life

A writer’s life

Pencil and penance

Loving you was once my life

Now I’m God’s wife

Writing to heal

To conceal

Imagination

Spirituality

Satisfying you

While feasting on your flesh

Was once all I had

Now no more

Now I live for more

Now I come knocking on God’s door

Filled the empty vessel

Once with your love

Now only memories

Thoughts of you above

Our life in the heavens will be golden

Devoid of the worries of money

Of commitments

Our love with flourish

What I’ve lost in this city will be regained in the next

 

I’m within the grip of death and desire

Imprisoned by their power

The tower of your love

At the centre of this city

Has been destroyed

Burnt to the ground

All that remains, is an urn, full of dust

Remnants of what it once was

The memories of the ascent of the tower haunt my weary nights

As I wait to be transported to the next

I dream of the new eternal tower built in its image

In the city to come

I worship the God of my cities

As I wait to find you once again

Writing is my freedom

My futile cry for help

My vain attempt to escape

The grip of death and desire

 

Your yellow eyes bore into my soul

The day before we released you from the machines

That played the vital role of your organs

In my dreams I see the city

You are there

My lover

My friend

Each night I venture to the city of desire

To escape the empty streets this city of death possesses

But as I wake I’m thrust back

Wake amid the corpses of a life once filled with love

I wallow in the repetitive days of routine

Obligation at the mercy of money

Trying to mix some meaning into the assortment of fiscal pursuits

Of employment

Qualifications

Accommodation

Liberty in my pencil

As I dream of days

Basking in the sun

Getting stoned and making love

I try to live up to expectations so high

The unattainable pursuit of pleasing

Daydreaming I go to a world where the two cities meet

Become one

Borders cease to exist

Day and night dissolve

Life is filled with warmth and love

But as I daydream

The harsh reality is

That these cities

Are immutably separate

As consciousness can never know the unconscious

The city of death can never truly know the city of desire

Without crossing the border forever

Coconut Island

 


 

 

‘Wrap her up in a package of lies
Send her off to a coconut island

 

Snap her up in a butterfly net
Pin her down on a photograph album’

 

-Counting Crows, Anna Begins.

 

 

            Growing up, this is something I never thought I would need to write about, certainly not from first-hand experience. My son is nearly 2 years old and I have never understood the battle for equality, like I have, since becoming a mother. Reading Constance Hall’s post last night on Instagram, where she begins with, ‘The first time you have a baby you’ll notice a few injustices’ reaffirmed my feelings and thoughts. She goes on to write, ‘unless you’re the exception and in an extremely progressive relationship, your gonna get angry’. She goes on to explain the injustice, the frustration and the anger; in my case, deep resentment of negotiating the roles of parenting. In her poignant, concise and kick you in the guts way, she explains, that women are the primary carers for children, that bare the mental load, that need to direct their partners to help them, which is as much work as doing it themselves. We ‘book in’ breaks. If a man looks after their child, he is seen as a fucking hero, but when a woman does the majority of this, it is simply seen as her duty. Now this may sound extreme, like an unfair attack on men, well it is not, because this is the reality of gender stereotypes, of thousands of years of patriarchy embedded in the consciousness of our society. Growing up, I did not know the battle I would need to face. When you are a mother for the first time, with a screaming new born baby, exhausted, sleep deprived and your partner, the equal parent, the other person who equally created your baby, who is equally responsible and leaves you at home alone, to go to the pub, or sleeps in or doesn’t do anything without a written invitation, you feel the full force of injustice. The full force of gender stereotypes. The full force of inequality. You don’t hate him for being a man, you hate that the reason he does less and you do more is simply because he plays an outdated role of a man and you are forced to play an outdate role of a woman. You are upset and you are fucking angry.

            Constance Hall is not the only one to be shedding light on the issues surrounding the roles of men and women in raising children. I recently read Dr Oscar Serrallach’s new book, The Postnatal Depletion Cure and this confirms that women and men are suffering from the outdated roles we are trying to play. Many relationships do not survive the first year of being new parents. He dedicates the book to ‘all the mothers who have suffered and struggled in their selfless roles as caregivers, often without the unconditional support and wisdom from their culture, societies, and families that should have been their birthright.’ There was so much in this book that I related to and I highly recommend it. I have been searching for a book like this for so long. It reiterated to me that I am not alone in my struggle as a mother and that I simply deserve better, we all deserve better. Now as a mother who works full time, I have the battle of juggling competing factors in my life. I’m writing this at 4.30 in the morning, while my husband and son sleep, before I have to get ready for work and get my son ready for day care. Before I have to dress him, pack his lunch, pack his bag, make sure he has nappies, wipes, change of clothes, socks on, put him in the car, do the dishes, pack my lunch, make sure I have my computer, keys, wallet, brush my teeth, put on make-up, make sure the heater’s off , the door’s locked, drop him at day care, all before my day of paid work begins.

             When I was in high school I created a print, I called it Coconut Island; it featured black and white, silhouetted symmetric heads of a male and female, side by side, with a butterfly in the centre; a symbol of freedom and equality. It was about the fallacy of gender equality and that it only exists in this magical place, called coconut island. This artwork has recently plagued my thoughts, as I never really knew how I would need to fight and struggle for my equality in a time, when I thought, we had won many of these battles. I grew up being a lover of feminism and of Germaine Greer, being introduced to these ideas at home and then reinforced at school. I grew up on a farm, where women worked alongside men. My sister and I learnt to do everything my brother did, shooting a gun, riding motorbikes, driving tractors, riding horses; our gender never became a reason for us, not to do anything. I wasn’t a ‘tom boy’, I was a farm girl, just a normal, capable girl. I thought in my life, my gender would never be an obstacle and I could do anything. Consequently, I have 2 university degrees, a career, a house, a husband and a beautiful son. I am grateful for all of my opportunities, women in the past, were denied. Recently I have entered into debates with men and women about what women can and cannot do. One was around women playing AFL, another about women’s roles as inventors. Most comments are too infuriating for me to repeat but that’s not the point, anyway, the point is, that I am still amazed that I am having these debates. As I fought and I argued, in my mind I was screaming in anger, thinking, Why the fuck am I even having this argument? Why do people still see women’s biological difference as a justification for discrimination and injustice?

            I have had to accept, not condone, some injustice and ignorance in this world and I know I cannot change some people’s opinions. I am grateful for the debate. I think we need to have dialogue around these issues to move forward. I write this still with anger, transformed into passion, a deep desire for equality that I direct towards hope for the future. My hope, is that I can influence the heart and mind of my son, we are raising, who will one day, live in a world devoid of injustice, gender inequality, stereotypes and outdates roles. I hope he helps to create a coconut island.  

 

-Farrah B.

 

 

Thursday 15 July 2021

God Must Be Crying


God must be crying

Watching the forests burn

God must be crying

Watching the earth turn

From paradise to barren wasteland 

Greed they cannot understand 

Destruction in our hands


God must be trying

To send another message 

Send another warning 

The earth is warming 

Our home we are destroying 


God must be crying 

For we do know what we do

Choose to ignore change or see it through

Targets and studies

Ecosystems crumbling 

Waiting

With ancient ice caps melting 


God must be crying 

As my little boy says

If all the animals and trees die

We will too


We all know what do

We need no more proof


Money and greed

Fossil fuel addicts feed

On denial 

In style 

This will no longer matter

When our dreams are in tatters

Our air cannot be breathed

Our future no longer seen


God must be crying 

With our innocent children

Screaming 

When the animals and trees die

So do we. 


Dancing with Big Magic

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