“Massey”

(Over the weekend I stayed in Massey -  a little village just outside Goroka in the Eastern Highlands. I wrote these words by the river.)

The roosters wake me up,
the village stirs,
fires are lit,
and breakfast is prepared.

There is harmony in Massey,
the sun rises,
the start of a new day.

People head to the markets,
bilums full.
The work of women,
some of the men still fast asleep.

Belonging…   yes, belonging!
To be a part of something,
to participate,
to give and to receive.

One family,
One line,
One clan,
One tribe.

The river,
men upstream,
women downstream.
The old ways.

By the creek I sit and write,
the water flows,
running water,
like music.
There is rythm…

A plastic bottle dashes past,
carried by the stream.
The old meets new,
and balance is interrupted.

The plastic bottle gets stuck,
I relate to the “stuckness”.
There is much to learn,
even more to let go of.

When old and new meet,
there is unrest,
there is confusion,
there is pain.

Suffering, struggle and more pain,
such is life,
old and new alike.
All suffer!

Is there a way out…
from this suffering?
I don’t know.
I just observe, I just listen and I learn.

People everywhere cling to hope,
for an answer,
for a way out,
from this suffering,
from this pain.

And then there was Massey…
a small village close to Goroka.
Change is coming at a rate of knots,
and amongst the pain and suffering
there is joy and love,
there is peace,
there is belonging.

Thank You Massey !!