there is no need for poetry
when life is this easy—
this morning
a kangaroo ripped at wet grass
as I rode through cold light

magpies tearing at each other
black and white wings striking air
beaks knocking hard
feathers falling

there is no need for politics
under a sky this wide
lorikeets screaming through blossom
wattlebirds knocking through banksia

(jets are built
paid for
sent

even from here)

no need to feel it
with the ocean hammering
drowning the wailing in a mosque
when the news comes from Lebanon
voices breaking, then gone

here
hands are shaken
statements made
some grief named
and answered

while other grief
sits quiet in chests
learning not to speak

under the fat Easter moon
we are all meant to pray to
in a place this safe

there is no need for poetry
when you are not the one
being silenced