Hanging Rock
There is something in us
that imbues landscapes
with substance or senses
what is there hidden beneath
the camouflage of form.
It finds voice in myth
and survives in the shadows
of the imagination,
birthplace of our being.
It enters this world
through ancient fissures,
openings in the mind,
sacred places and in the crevices
weathered in lava outcrops
spewed out of a volcano
more than six million years ago
halfway between Melbourne
and Bendigo.
Hanging Rock rises up
out the plain like a cathedral
but houses no familiar god.
Here, something primal
breathes out of the lava pores
and sleeps within.
In the mirror of our smug certainties,
it is never seen
but festers in a fear
that we may awaken it
from its ancient dream.
Note.
Hanging Rock features as the main backdrop
in Peter Weir's haunting film,
‘Picnic At Hanging Rock’. Would suggest
a viewing of the trailer on YouTube to get
a sense of how this rather strange rock
formation sets off an interference pattern
on the imagination.
Copyright © Paul Willason | Year Posted 2025
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment