Whistling
Like the ghost of an old cowboy riding a dusty trail
Heaven’s exhalation whips and cracks
Swiftly jolting me from suspended consciousness
I listen to the leaves of the trees talking to each other,
shrouding me with a sense of foreboding
The squall dies down, leaving a feeling of heaviness
In the air
In my soul
And the animals are restless
Though they have long since disappeared
The rumbling and rattling of a freight train
Sound, rushing past me
Where it’s going, I don’t know
It has come carrying a thousand screaming souls
Barrelling down a non-existent track
Not a single celestial torch
To illuminate the path home
Freezing lips kiss my face and hands
I’m struck by shivers
Rolling like thunder
Up and down my spine
Pricking my skin
No longer enshrouded, and helpless against the onslaught
It stands to attention
A lone bird’s cry of desperation
I am pierced
The roll of a discontent sky
Shudders in the distance
The mumbling of ancestors
Pulsating with incoherent memories
Yearn to be heard
Though they are deafening
Uneasily shifting, yet solid as a rock,
I await the arrival of a soft star
Its umber, blush, and lilac hues
Gently kissing the Earth beneath
Bringing with it illumination and peace
Willa is a strong, fiercely proud, compassionate DjaDja Wurrung Woman, who is committed to giving Indigenous, Disabled, LGBTQI+, and other Marginalized individuals and groups, a voice in a World in which there are still very few platforms and programs afforded to them. Living independently under the watchful eye of her Persian Assistance Cat Dilara, Willa writes and takes photographs every day, journalling her life and the places and people around her.
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