Skip to main content

Daughters and sons of the Southern earth.

I write about my mother, wife and sisters.

They may not be aware, but I love them harder than a man can.

I have loved hard, but often, too meekly given.

They are women.

Real breathing women.

They have lived big lives,

Won and lost love, and won love again.

Cried out in pain, with their heads back and their souls open as they gave birth to beautiful, amazing human beings.

Flesh and blood.

Sweat and tears.

I write about my mother, wife and sisters.

Daughters of their mothers.

Maureen and Julai.

Young mothers. Beautiful, young mothers.

Daughters of another young mother, or two.


Australian women.

Daughters of the Southern earth.

Sisters of the Southern sun.





Work and toil.

I write about my mother, wife and sisters.

Lives moulded by the product of men.

Yes, myself a man.

Stronger muscle but weaker flesh.

Not proud and often wrong.

Silent in my arrogance and neediness.


We use and love our women and expect their bended knee.



Yet in return?

Slowly given.

I write about my mother, wife and sisters.

Full names, mixed blood.

Life is not easy.

Our lives are not easy, and we men make it harder.

For our women.

THIS man made it harder for his women.

Mother, sisters and wives.

I made it harder in my sullen silence and noisy destruction.





Made it harder when hard it already was.

Dealing with their own men.

I should have awakened.


Honoured their hearts.

Taken their hands.

Returned their trust.

Always there but never present.

I write about my mother, wife and sisters.

This man can feel lost in the act, not the action.

Of trying to be a man, when he often feels like a little boy.



I write this to my women.

It is changing, I am changing.

Their man is awakening.




Brother, husband, son and father.


Pure love.

Take this gift, as it is all I have to give.

All I have to be is ME.

Need to read more?

This is a theme of Love from One Day, One Life: P. 171-175. One Day One Life

Leave a Reply