The Arctic

Like a chill wind from the

North-end of my little sphere –

Only my heart exists now, maybe

“Another” is not a word, at all

At first I was roaming, a traveler

A tourist; such a world that did not

Sweep me off my feet then

I decided to climb to rooftops to look below

Where there were ice filling caverns

Of narrow rock – then came tremors,

A gross congregation of tumbling stone

But a conglomerate bravely stuck itself out of the wall

Wistfully I look on, some

Kind of longing overtakes hopefulness

Only because of the immediacy of now

And I always thought that I would be that rock

I walked a path named “you”

But I am not sure if I took a wrong turn somewhere

Or slipped or something

But I guess you showed me the way to –

Well, only a gust that freezes over

My now emaciated frame:

The Arctic is no northern uncharted mystery but

The largest crevasse inside of me.

We acknowledge the Ngunnawal and Ngambri people, who are the Traditional Custodians of the land on which Woroni, Woroni Radio and Woroni TV are created, edited, published, printed and distributed. We pay our respects to Elders past and present. We acknowledge that the name Woroni was taken from the Wadi Wadi Nation without permission, and we are striving to do better for future reconciliation.