The jacarandas are in flower as the blossoms fall purple, small deaths, sighing at the side of open suitcases, coming to rest in the dust of gathering memories, waiting to be packed along with the myriad possessions; dregs of life and tree, scattered in that song of inevitable ending, where what was, can be no more and what is, calls, in soulful whisper, reminding all is impermanent, nothing lasts, or can endure, beyond its allotted time and for the expatriate, there will always be a moment to go home, just as the tree sheds its beauty, making way for something new, and for that which is destined to come after – fated to the turn of the wheel of life, the eternal cycle, slowly spinning in silence, unseen, revolutions of days and minutes, dropping into the past, as the now rises in gentle roll, to the top of consciousness, holding for a brief reality, impressed as template of our being; so we begin and move to our created end, which has always been written even if we did not know it.
Roslyn Ross has recently returned to Adelaide, particularly the Adelaide Hills, after spending three decades living around the world, mostly in Africa and India, but also in Europe, North America and the UK. As well, time was spent living and working around Australia. She is a former journalist, who has also worked as a freelance manuscript editor. She has written poetry from childhood, and had work published in a number of anthologies, mainly in the US but also recently in Australia. She began fiction writing about twenty years ago and has completed five novels, and a work of non-fiction based on her four years in Angola during the civil war. Current projects include a non-fiction work about tracing her Greek great-grandfather, a biography of her mother, a book on spirituality, and a sixth novel. More about Roslyn and her poetry and work can be found on her blog at:
Readers’ original and unpublished poems of up to 40 lines can be emailed, with postal address, to email@example.com. A poetry book will be awarded to each contributor.