These White Walls

I like small spaces, with white walls
and windows bright and protruding
so the sun and banksia can illumine
my heart.

This small quiet place is where I like to start
and sit and continue
no other voices, no people
for I am a quiet soul
who likes to hear the sound of her own breath
breathing my body
my beauty
my being.

But
I also long
to be in loud rooms
lighted and filled with lives and song
those people brushing along
tripping over feet
laughing like kookaburras
dancing out into the street
as I mumble profanities
bumping the shoulders of humanity
is something I loathe and love
the vibrating waves I am made of.

You see, oh can’t you see
how these people have hurt one another
a man who has killed his own sister and mother
not with gun but with an ignorant tongue
Men who have built walls within creation
painted with toxic white paint with no consultation
no room for the colours or complexities of manifestation.

So I return to my room
white walls
so I can see my skin’s contrast
as I wail with window wide open
I let her flow in
the swirling arms of green
keen to hold me
to grow deep within
so that I can slowly
enter into the loud rooms
made by loud voices
echoing and enlivening my own matter
so maybe one day I can hold the human
break down these small and large walls that keep me in
that keep others out
and not implode
by the weight of systemic sin.