In this Haiku series, I describe my surroundings on a short hike down Pace road in the Paluma range. Here, I compare the unconscious mind to the occupants of the forest. The plants, like our thoughts, are endlessly competing for light above (our attention). What we pay attention to grows and can be dangerous or suffocating. When we soar above the forest in the sky overhead, we find peace when we forget our thoughts and breathe.

Halifax forest by Tiani Dun

Slow creeping death takes;
Inching plant’s eternal fight.
Leaves reflecting light.

In darkness damp drops:
Palm shades on the overgrown,
Dark light deprived rocks.

Bright spots reflecting
Through breaks of pondering blue
Meditate their hue.

Light above shaded
Cold within the recesses
A neglected mind.

Preoccupied thoughts
Are like forest underlay
Fighting each other.

Peace is only found
Above the canopy top
Where vines don’t persist.

By Tiani Dun

On a solo camping trip down Cape Hillsborough way, I am woken by the birds to a magnificent sunrise. Here, over 50 people gather to watch the spectacle and photograph the kangaroos being fed by the park rangers. In the city, we turn to our devices for entertainment and often forget to watch the shows that nature displays. Yet this morning, the sky is magenta, and I am reminded of the magic of being here on this planet. 

Sunrise at Cape Hillsborough by Tiani

When the painted coloured start of morning smiles
For miles and miles.
When the patterned waves roll over sand
Sea to land.
When the kookaburras sing to us awake
With all at stake.
Is when the silent show is due to start
Us a part.

The islands drift, the sky alive 
It’s half past five. 
The light that opens up her face
A peaceful pace.
Outside the gates stand all the sheep,
Fast asleep.
They see the signs and don’t proceed
A sight indeed.

When treading east on the stretch of beach
All thoughts at peace. 
When the silver water covers dark rocks 
Forget the clocks. 
Where the sea is still, and sight is broader 
Out of order. 
We escape the highways and backed-up cars
To see the stars.

By Anaïs Bond

Image by Anais Bond

I want to learn how to read the wind, see how it sways across the fields.
I want to learn how to trust my breathe, then submerge beneath the surface.
I want to learn how to let go when the currents change direction, and the tide pulls the other way.

I want to look into friends’ teary eyes and tell them everything will be ok.
I want to cry as if my tears are ribbons of gold, cleansing my heart of pain.
I want to watch watercolour flow across canvas, running like rain down the windowsill.

I want to feel like a leaf drifting across the ocean, unknown of direction but peaceful within its place.
I want to feel vulnerable like a ship in the middle of the sea, tender to the power before me.
I want to feel as light as the clouds on a spring’s morning as they drift alongside beautiful memories.

I want to learn how to read the wind.

I want to hear the tides trickle over shingle beaches as the day speaks its final goodbye.
I want to hear nature as if the forests are pulsing in a mellow heartbeat.
I want to hear your voice and spin under the stars.

I want to watch the sky as it wraps the world in bands on peachy slicks.
I want to shine like water trickling through a stream as the sun drops below the horizon.
I want to feel pure warmth as the sun kisses my skin and leaves behind a freckle on my cheek.

I want to swim in the river and share stories with my children.
I want to be as strong as a snow gum in the brisk of winter chill.
I want to grow as tall as the mountains whose beauty stands bold in the vastness.
I want to learn the seasons of being the human I am.

I want to learn how to read the wind.