For Kevin

Speak, sweet stone —
your edges round
in weightless line,

your ancient ochre,
weathered witness
within each and every
custodian of country

First ancestor,
sentinel to our impermanence,
majesty in gravity,
anchored —

to where the gathering
of exquisite light
holds, to lift us up,

As We
As Must
Bow Down.

 

Martin © 2026

Photograph © Kevin Murphy