My mothers world is different to mine
She retold stories of how she would stay in the sun
Listen to the sounds of wildlife
She made the Earth sound so special

My mother told me about the smell of freshly cut grass
Walking down the harsh gravel road, I see no grass
I smell the choking fumes from the trucks, the smoke

My mother told of how the sky would reflect how the Earth would feel
The Earth is not feeling well
It remains a constant state of grey
And only darkens
And darkens

Grey monsters loom above me
The empty road in front of me taunts me
Why are you outside?
What are you looking for?

A gust of wind blows my hair
A gust of wind makes something rustle
It's not an empty chip bag

A waratah, green and red
It has fought its way out of the restraints of cement
Perhaps a hope of gaining back what was lost

Words inspired by Waratah and Hogsweed (Detail) (2022) by Stella Yu. POSCA markers and Fineliner photoshopped and printed on Rag Paper. Photo: Miriam Berkery. View the full collection and artist's statement here.