The Road Up

The Road Up The road up hugs the side of a hill and steep slopes fall into dark gullies far below. In places, tree trunks still wear the blackened scars of past fires. Further up, you enter a long archway of shade, trees are taller and tower in full height above the road - ferns wave their extended fronds as you pass - long ribbons of bark hang down through the low cloud. The air is damp and cold with high country breath. You stop, leave the car and walk a little way into the forest. All is quiet except for muted forest sounds playing out in a soft chorus on the edges of your hearing. There are times when you feel a sense of arrival, that all the pathways of your life have led to here. No grand finale waits to mark the moment, just an indifference as if you were only ever a part of a greater whole, the realisation that you are not alone but lost sometimes in one of the many rooms of your home.