Thoughts on Going Home
While still in the bush I ponder
The end of the road out yonder…
What’ll happen when the day comes when
We all complete the trail?
“Will you manage?”, some folks query,
“Does the thought just make you weary?
Of going back to work and
paying bills, collecting mail?”
They laugh and share the vision strange,
Of us back home with our new-found range
Of curious, unsavoury habits
Acquired in the bush.
Wearing clothes for weeks without a care,
Boil the billy just to wash our hair,
Slacking thirsts with river water,
Even puddles at a push.
And it kind of got me thinking,
Will we end up sad, and shrinking,
From the niceties of modern life,
Foregone for just too long?
Fluoro lights and silvered faucets,
Fluffy sheets and china saucers,
In a world where vehicles take the prize
And donkeys don’t belong.
Will we long to throw the windows
Full ajar, to let the wind blow?
Upon our softening bodies,
Long since starved of wind and sun
And perhaps on longer weekends,
Our brackish lives we’ll sweeten
By rounding up the donks and Fly,
And walking, just for fun.
These worries they did plague my mind,
Though now I think I’ll likely find
That’s it’s really not the thought of
going home that I can’t stand.
But the chance of just forgetting,
Something so hard fought in getting-
It takes more than just a year to learn
the secrets of the land.
I don’t mean knots or reading clouds,
Or building shelters tall and proud,
But a gradual recognition-
Nature holds her secrets tight.
There one minute, gone the next
A flash, a glimpse, a moment’s rest,
From the chaos and complexity
One stumbles on in life.
I fear when all is said and done,
When boots are downed and bridles hung,
It’ll be a smooth transition back
To cars and clotted cream.
And we’ll slip back into town life,
To the joys of doors and down lights
And our memories of life out bush
Will be all a distant dream.