I was inspired to write this poem during a trip my partner and I did to a local trek at Diamond Head. It was a 5km trek winding through the headlands with access to precipices and surrounding native bushland. The area was named after a lady named Kylie who had an immaculate love for the land, that she regularly wandered here and wrote a book about it.
I will delve into her history beneath the poem.
Enjoy the video!
I flatten out a round beach towel,
kneel down with my hands out in front
and slide forward onto my stomach.
The ocean waves crash,
bringing my heart to shore.
Now I have stillness,
like the kinetic waves.
From the Earth I feel energy,
a vibration of murmuring.
The voice is feminine,
soft like her sand.
My bones are riddled with history
as I listen to the lady of this land.
A local named Kathleen Tennant visited this out-of-town area regularly. It’s roughly 20 minutes of driving down a dirt road. The serenity and beauty encapsulated her, and it’s no wonder when you absorb the energy and take in the sights!
A farmer lived by the lighthouse, on the next headland lip behind where I’m standing, and they became good friends. He agreed to her building a writer’s retreat, since he owned the land.
It was the most adorable little timber hut. Apparently, her Father helped supply the materials and they built it together by hand. She wrote a poetic novel inspired by the farmer, about the beauty of the headland and beaches.
Panorama of the headland.
She eventually published a book titled: ‘Man On The Headland.’
I stupidly didn’t take my camera to photograph the sights, I used my iPhone, because I didn’t think I’d write a blog post about it. There was an extra 400 meter walk to Kylie’s hut which we investigated. It was actually disappointing because it burnt down during the bushfires in 2019.
Of course, I have no photos… SORRY, it was only six concrete stilts.
Local history is more engaging. Knowing she wandered exactly where we stood, only 50 years ago, evoked a sense of connection to her. I lamented a local stranger that had no correlation to me. I’d love to have met her. Writers can be some of the most interesting people; they articulate unwonted interpretations of life around them.
Wouldn’t you agree?
This is a segment from Chapter 1 in her book, describing the individuality of the land…
Diamond Head has it’s own special illusion. Anyone who comes there is seized with a wild resolution to stay forever. No man is possessed with the urge to bend Diamond Head to his secret longings, to make it his own. Diamond Head deals with them. It outlasts. Its great bulk of basalt was doing just this a few hundred years ago when Captain Cook and his crew of constipated heroes swept past, claiming the continent in a distant and gentle-manly manner. They heard the roar of the cliffs as so many cheers for their passing, a bombardment of welcome salutes. And Diamond Head will give a belch and a roar for the passing of all who come after him.The Man On The Headland