a place I know

memory

There are only so many words to describe a place you have never thought to describe before. It’s just a place in your mind where you know everything, where you know where to step to avoid rolling your ankle, where you know where to sit to get the optimal view of a sunset. It’s on a slight hill in the very corner of our five acre property, we have the pile of branches from old trees that have since died, the wood we use for kindling in our fireplace in the winter time. Side-stepping kangaroo poo to get to the spot on the pile of bricks. I have never been sure as to why we have the pile of bricks – about 1 metre high – but it has always been there. You can only sit in one spot without them all uncomfortably moving; right on the edge. It looks right into the neighbours property, where they seem to have endless land — their house is on the other side of the hill, so I can only see the few trees and many sheep. As an avid lover of a sunset, I have watched the sun settle as the day turns into night many times, and it always provides my favourite setting. The grass is dead, branches are strewn everywhere. I sit just in front of the barbed wire fence that protects our property; long since it has worked as an electric fence. There is a timber pole just near the pile of bricks, with the wire wrapped tightly around, continuing on to the next property; the only sign of where our properties end and the next one begins.

moment

I’m standing here, in the very place I was describing from memory mere hours before. I am surprised at how well I was able to describe it; hardly anything I am noticing that I had not already described. The only noticeable difference is another pile of bricks, right next to the aforementioned pile. These bricks are not placed together, rather thrown together, a dark grey pile of rubble.

The air smells crisp and the wind is strong, biting my skin, telling me to go inside. The sun is setting, an orangey pink hue mixed with dark gray. The remnants of the day.

I’ve never been sure
how to describe your being
whether you are
the sun, lighting the sky
the moon, guiding the night
or the stars
the most awe-inspiring sight

maybe you are all —
the trees, bristling in the wind
the air surrounding my skin

you are nothing
but you are everything
you are every reminder
that I am alive

Categories: Rackers

rackers

25 year old writer, just trying to find her way through the world through words.

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