In my chair I travel the Outback;
Beyond the beyond,
Back of Burke.
I walk under a Sun
Too intense for city dwellers
To lug around their grocery bags,
Where no roads lead
To neon-lined malls.
In this outback of my mind
There is nothing I can find
To rub my leg upon,
To even spit and shine.
My feet are rubbed raw
Walking over the bones of loved ones,
Killed by expectation’s embrace.
I have no face
Beyond the beyond;
No words back of Burke…
Only a Silence
And a Nameless Name calls me,
Leads me,
To where all things grow without a trace.
Yes, I sit in my chair
And walk the empty Outback,
Beyond the beyond,
Back of Burke
And quench my thirst
Without a sound
In the Great Billabong.
2004 Janaka Stagnaro
www.janakastagnaro.com