Competition

First Prize

Echoes of Innocence
by Ella Ruuskanen
Mentone, Vic

You were born inside four walls
Of sun-dried mud.

She held your blood-slicked body to her lips,
Tasting the smouldering scarlet
Of effortless death,
Even as her heart continued to beat against your own;
A crimson pulse, it briefly flared
Before fading,
Like a last glimmer of sun upon the horizon...
And the night crept down upon her.

And you, cradled in arms that refused to slacken -
You spluttered out the angry,
Strangled cry of one
Forced head-first into life,
Innocent, yet, of suffering.

Across the wild, wide Ocean
I echoed your cry,
And I was innocent, then,
Of the knowledge of your suffering.

You do not know me.
But I know you;

Your eyes haunt me from the shadows -
Dark halos that brand my conscience, and I
Burn to make you tangible;
To reach out these hands and draw you
Into the light.

In my dream I meet you there.
We sit beneath that same thatched roof and listen
To the humming of our hearts,
Light as the wind in a caged bird's wings,
And you look upon me with uncertainty.
In your eyes the question burns:
Why should I trust you?

Trust me
Because

We are echoes of innocence. I cry when you cry
Because the world hurts as one.