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I share this post by way of introduction... I want to introduce the lands I am on, and I want to introduce my longing.
I live and write on the lands of the Darkinjung, Guringai, and Wanangini peoples, here on the Central Coast of Australia. I acknowledge these lineages and any others that have been displaced, erased, or forgotten due to colonisation. Sovereignty was never ceded here. It lives on in human and more-than-human kin: in ancestors, spirit, waters, animals, plants, and land.
I bow my head in gratitude for my life here.
The poem I share below was written in response to the prompt What am I yearning for? during FIELDWORK with Indigenous teacher and leader Leah Manaema Avene.
Of course, it’s a process this poem, this self-introduction, this reweaving. But for now, I offer myself to you through the portal of my yearning.
May we walk with care, for each other, and the earth.
With love,
Lit
I am yearning.
For land, for sea, for stars, for sky.
For birds, for plants, for animals, for us.
For our homes and communities and planet.
I am yearning for bone-deep wisdom.
For embodied knowing.
For the integration of information into feeling, sensing, revelation of care.
To be singing in the morning, silly songs and grief songs, from a web place.
Longing for each other.
Longing for the net.
A net that holds and distributes, rather than restricts, extracts, or binds.
Not a net of guilt or codependent grip.
I yearn for a culture with the intelligence to cultivate or recode intricate interconnected systems.
To grow the tall grass.
To share water with ease.
To bring in the animal for the sacred kill, not with dominance, but with balance.
I yearn for whenua — the great placenta of life that gives all we need.
I am yearning for less performative, less masked, less heart-guarded versions of myself
to play out, to dance with, to try on.
I yearn for simple curiosity
where it is ok to make mistakes.
To get it wrong.
To be in the mess and half-baked wonder.
I yearn for a net used wisely and skillfully; to bring what is needed, to let the rest go.
A net that homes and hones,
that does not ensnare or exhaust,
but holds us, sees us, sings us into connection.
I yearn for easy calls. No need for appointment.
We gather by the fire and simply ask: what have you found?
I don't want to schedule time.
I want to embody non-linear time,
to trust the coming and going of clouds, of tides, of seasons, of stars —
not use them to protect me from my own uncertainty,
but to remind me how to be.
I yearn for my heart to be dislodged from its position of standing down, standing back.
Hypervigilant. Overplanning. Never quite living.
I am yearning for a rite of passage. An initiation.
A threshold crossing to guide me through this next stage of life as I prepare for parenthood.
And I am longing for a culture that honours this.
That makes space for sacred transitions.
That creates containers for grief and becoming.
That says: come as you are.
Don't heal alone in a corner.
Don't wear your reinvigorated mask until the next breakdown pulls you under again.
I want a culture that affirms the sacred.
That doesn't just cope, but remembers.
Because even those who care deeply are stretched thin.
Under stress. Under duress. Trying their best.
Caught in the net.
We are all frayed. All disoriented.
All trying to make our way home
to ourselves,
to each other,
to the land.

Thanks for reading Space Whale 3.0.
This piece was originally published on Substack during NAIDOC Week, a time to honour and celebrate the enduring strength, wisdom, and cultures of First Nations peoples across these unceded lands known as Australia.
If this resonated with you, you’re warmly invited to support the work through the new Coins feature here on Paragraph. Every gesture of support helps nourish this evolving creative space.
I share this post by way of introduction... I want to introduce the lands I am on, and I want to introduce my longing.
I live and write on the lands of the Darkinjung, Guringai, and Wanangini peoples, here on the Central Coast of Australia. I acknowledge these lineages and any others that have been displaced, erased, or forgotten due to colonisation. Sovereignty was never ceded here. It lives on in human and more-than-human kin: in ancestors, spirit, waters, animals, plants, and land.
I bow my head in gratitude for my life here.
The poem I share below was written in response to the prompt What am I yearning for? during FIELDWORK with Indigenous teacher and leader Leah Manaema Avene.
Of course, it’s a process this poem, this self-introduction, this reweaving. But for now, I offer myself to you through the portal of my yearning.
May we walk with care, for each other, and the earth.
With love,
Lit
I am yearning.
For land, for sea, for stars, for sky.
For birds, for plants, for animals, for us.
For our homes and communities and planet.
I am yearning for bone-deep wisdom.
For embodied knowing.
For the integration of information into feeling, sensing, revelation of care.
To be singing in the morning, silly songs and grief songs, from a web place.
Longing for each other.
Longing for the net.
A net that holds and distributes, rather than restricts, extracts, or binds.
Not a net of guilt or codependent grip.
I yearn for a culture with the intelligence to cultivate or recode intricate interconnected systems.
To grow the tall grass.
To share water with ease.
To bring in the animal for the sacred kill, not with dominance, but with balance.
I yearn for whenua — the great placenta of life that gives all we need.
I am yearning for less performative, less masked, less heart-guarded versions of myself
to play out, to dance with, to try on.
I yearn for simple curiosity
where it is ok to make mistakes.
To get it wrong.
To be in the mess and half-baked wonder.
I yearn for a net used wisely and skillfully; to bring what is needed, to let the rest go.
A net that homes and hones,
that does not ensnare or exhaust,
but holds us, sees us, sings us into connection.
I yearn for easy calls. No need for appointment.
We gather by the fire and simply ask: what have you found?
I don't want to schedule time.
I want to embody non-linear time,
to trust the coming and going of clouds, of tides, of seasons, of stars —
not use them to protect me from my own uncertainty,
but to remind me how to be.
I yearn for my heart to be dislodged from its position of standing down, standing back.
Hypervigilant. Overplanning. Never quite living.
I am yearning for a rite of passage. An initiation.
A threshold crossing to guide me through this next stage of life as I prepare for parenthood.
And I am longing for a culture that honours this.
That makes space for sacred transitions.
That creates containers for grief and becoming.
That says: come as you are.
Don't heal alone in a corner.
Don't wear your reinvigorated mask until the next breakdown pulls you under again.
I want a culture that affirms the sacred.
That doesn't just cope, but remembers.
Because even those who care deeply are stretched thin.
Under stress. Under duress. Trying their best.
Caught in the net.
We are all frayed. All disoriented.
All trying to make our way home
to ourselves,
to each other,
to the land.

Thanks for reading Space Whale 3.0.
This piece was originally published on Substack during NAIDOC Week, a time to honour and celebrate the enduring strength, wisdom, and cultures of First Nations peoples across these unceded lands known as Australia.
If this resonated with you, you’re warmly invited to support the work through the new Coins feature here on Paragraph. Every gesture of support helps nourish this evolving creative space.
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I truly loved the poem you wrote. It brought back all the images I had of Australia in my mind, and made me realize that everything I’ve seen in films and documentaries is far more real and beautiful than I ever imagined. I hope that one day I’ll be able to visit and meet the people who never gave in to colonization, to spend time with them and learn from their spirit. I'm truly grateful to have crossed paths with a soul as strong and authentic as yours, my dear friend 🌻
Very surprised to be top of the leaderboard, thank you poetry friends!! I had such an amazing response from the paragraph post I shared last week (I think this is why I got so many points - thanks for the support and thanks @hamedns for the rewards 🙌 Thanks for all that resonated with I and Yearning - l post it in the comments for anyone who would like to read it… much love : https://cura.network/poetry/leaderboard?leaderboardType=weekly
https://paragraph.com/@space-whale/i-am-yearning
Your welcome my dear friend 🧡
I’m so excited about this!! @paragraph is 🔥 ☁️✒️
it is a great new feature!
Isn’t it? Do you have a paragraph too ?
Yes! https://paragraph.com/@space-whale/i-am-yearning Ive also got a cloud poem post on there too…
Dear poetry friends, consider supporting my writing through the new coins feature on @paragraph ✨ 💜 I share this post by way of introduction of place, and of longing. https://paragraph.com/@space-whale/i-am-yearning Yearning I am yearning. For land, for sea, for stars, for sky. For birds, for plants, for animals, for us. For our homes and communities and planet. I am yearning for bone-deep wisdom. For embodied knowing. For the integration of information into feeling, sensing, revelation of care. To be singing in the morning, silly songs and grief songs, from a web place. Longing for each other. Longing for the net. A net that holds and distributes, rather than restricts, extracts, or binds. Not a net of guilt or codependent grip. I yearn for a culture with the intelligence to cultivate or recode intricate interconnected systems. To grow the tall grass. To share water with ease. To bring in the animal for the sacred kill, not with dominance, but with balance.
@arjantupan @trpplffct @hamedns consider subscribing to my publication to support my poetry and writing
Thank you for sharing this, Lit May we all find our way back, to connection, to care, to reverence 🌌
I read this piece in my e-mail as I just subscribed to a lot of people and I can say this is one of the best pieces I have ever read. So visual, so emotional, so deep. Loved it. 300 $TIPN
Wow thank you so much @ashwinikumar.eth that honestly means so much when I am just gaining the confidence to share my deeper thoughts and yearnings. Thank you for subscribing, and tipping 🫶💜
Ah, the coins on Paragraph. Nice topic for the let's talk poetry series one day. 27 $degen
Would love to hear your thoughts…
dear friends, i’ll be sharing reflective writing, poetry, and art—plus moments from our journey together in this club via @paragraph they’ve just launched an awesome new coins feature, as a way for community to support writers. if this resonates, id love to have you read, subscribe, or support. im writing from my creative entity Space Whale and your presence and encouragement truly mean a lot 🐋✨ https://paragraph.com/@space-whale/i-am-yearning
Morning, how’s your day feeling?
Great read. I am yearning for the same.
Thank you for reading. It’s beautiful to know we share similar yearnings.