WindRose
Extract of Epic Poem with artwork and song " A Highland Lament" by Magda Palmer Cordingley












Under skies where clouds collide,
Causing conflict scattered wide,
Over acreage galore
With trackless saltbush by the score,
With twisted gums and creeks relieved,
And curious rocks by past conceived,
Ran a child with tangled hair
Breathing fast for want of air,
His casual garments flying free,
Uncovered feet gave liberty
To move as fast as hares through corn
Or flying foxes from the dawn,
To a farm house where he told
Wild, urgent stories sevenfold;
Sevenfold for none believed,
Yet none believed this child deceived;
Silence reigned, like winter's land
Wrapped in snow, their faces bland.

“I tell you all, Wind’s in a cave,
She’s trapped inside and must be saved;
I could not see her, but could hear 
Her voice, moss-soft and river-clear;
Like gently, gurgling water-music
Trapped in whirlpools ever cyclic;
She sings of love, foresworn, reborn,
Of a paper bird whose wings seem torn. 
Were it not for heaven’s blessing
It’s elements, our land caressing;
With one in bond or lacking freedom,
We will turn as salt in Sodom;
Monstrous fright will then employ
Long buried phantoms to destroy
With lustful plagues in frenzied need
To gorge on all in rapturous greed;
Vehement pleasures riding high,
Will honour nought or sanctify.
Then each sheep as silent sentry
Will look on dams gone dry and empty,
Will think on dancing butterflies
Once flaunting finery in the skies
With flitting hordes of creatures flirting;
And tussock grass with flowers waltzing,
And golden wattle strands; Then thinks
To lichen laden trunks where skinks
Abide with micro-worlds of varied
Larvae grubs-to tree roots married,
Will muse on wallabies and bees
To wafting, bird trilled melodies
Of wild voiced tribes of trekking geese,
Of finches singing, doves at peace;
Hears jingling chords within each tune
Form harmonies to draw the moon, 
To blanket all with muted light
Concealed from Keepers of The Night.




The sheep will then try silent prayer
To ask for evening’s tranquil air;
They’ll feel the earth turned parched and frizzled
And taste the oats and grass grown grizzled;
They’ll smell the green with drought replaced
Our precious farm land gone to waste;
No fellow creature to be found,
Like termites hidden in their mound;
They’ll look for Wind to ring release
And wonder why her power ceased;
She’d always given nature’s needs,
Here some rain, there some seeds.
Wind has gone sheep know not where;
Distress will drop them in despair;
We know the Wind is in a cave,
Compressed within and won’t be saved 
Unless we help release her bird
Who fills her heart with songs unheard.”

Done, the boy drew back reflecting,
His family sat, their thoughts collecting;
Heard the eerie air was noiseless;
Absent sounds drummed deep and voiceless,
Renting sound as Darwin thunder
Smashes eardrums, tears asunder;
Loud as astral bodies clashing,
Volcanic nightmares, icebergs smashing;
Hidden sounds of hooded silence
Indicating secret violence;
As though some twisted, boastful thief
Had stole their joy and left his grief;
The very air was charged with fraught,
Was it true this tale he'd brought?
That Wind, the Queen of earth and air,
Whose breath brings fortune through repair,
Is trapped within a cave forever, 
Forever, forever stopping never?