By Alice Skye © | Wergaia/Wemba Wemba
I miss my Country
I miss being at home.
The way the mountains feel like company – such a big personality
The way the air smells and the trees sound.
I catch a cold each time I go home and it feels like the city’s leaving my body.
At the moment I feel like leaving my body.
I wonder if I’ll ever write anything good again?
I wonder if I’ve ever written anything good???
I just moved house.
I’m sitting in a pile of my things, wondering how long I can afford to be here.
Is any of this worth selling?
Are any of my songs worth releasing?
I hate the word ‘webinar’!
My housemates are talking about how we’re practically cyborgs.
As though the online and technological spaces we exist in are becoming an extension of ourselves.
I can hardly cope with what’s tangible to me – I refuse to take this on.
I don’t want to go to the (online) party.
I find it hard to find my feet,
The last few nights I’ve slept with my bed in a different position of my new room
I’m yet to find the one.
I’m back home.
I’m 16 again and worried about what to wear to the supermarket. I’m 16 again and I’m arguing with someone who doesn’t understand.
I’ve been told I have a responsibility to educate white people that don’t understand – I refuse to take this on.
Spoke to my Aunty on the phone tonight
She apologised for talking too much but I hope she never stops.
I’m so glad I’m blak!!!
There’s a fallen Red Gum blocking the driveway and I remember that it’s Wergaia name is bial.
Bial, Red Gum,
Buiga, to fall.
I’m in the far paddock and I can hear mum chopping wood.
I think my dad lived and died near the mountains.
Maybe I will too.
Widjiwa, to return, to come home.
This piece is part of Blak Bloggers, a pilot program as part of YIRRAMBOI’s Resilience in Isolation, supporting First Nations to keep creative during physical-distancing.
Image credit: Supplied by Alice Skye.