When I was in the Rural and Remote Ward at Glenside Hospital I was not alone. There were many people suffering from a variety of mental injury and illness. We had a connection as we were all from the country.

Those that know me, understand that I am not a very humble man, but being in this ward for several weeks, I faced the greatest feelings of humility I could ever imagine. The only other time I felt this was when I worked on the APY Lands – another life changing experience.

I was humble and would say “if I lost 50% of my mental capacity, 50% of my physical capacity and 90% of my wealth I would still be 90% better of that 70% of the people on the ward with me.” I was humbled and still I am.

We all had a connection in the ward of not only coming from the country but in we were all fighting our own demons – some worse than others. At meals or when chatting or even going for a walk, there was always a moment that you had eye contact, and there was that connection that is hard to explain. Perhaps understanding is the best word.

I wrote the following poems about that connection. The second one was about a lady I met who was an Aboriginal woman who had that ‘old soul’ and was what I think our first Australians are so often not recognised for.

The final poem was written by a young patient who together we shared our poetry and she was kind enough to give me a copy of this one to publish.

I thank all the patients I met in the ward – they were instrumental in my healing and recovery through their friendship, care and community – thank you.

“Know Them”
 
Abe as right:
 
“I don’t like that man.  I need to get to know him better.”
 
Where I am now,
Both physical and mental,
Is a place,
Never for me,
                                    Except it is.
                                    I am here.
 
I need to get to know the place,
I need to get to know the people.
 
As my default was “I” or “Me”,
I didn’t want or need,
The “them” or the “others”,
Ever.
 
So, remember;
The King, the “I”,
Is dead,
And he feels the want.
 
To know,
                                    The people,
                                    The places
And, their stories.
 
The King is dead,
And, I am alone.
 
I listened,
Perhaps, truly, for the first time ever.
 
Sometimes I held a hand,
Hugged the tears shed,
                                    On my shoulder,
Watched the outbursts,
Saw true sadness,
Had conversations,
Even sung a song,
Actually went to a thing,
                                    Called “group”.
 
And went for long and,
Short walks;
In doing this,
I wanted to know them better.
 
There was “Young J”,
Who was here,
From a home far away,
Isolated, as we chatted,
Of getting back there;
So much life left,
And it always shined through;
He draws me a picture,
And he is in it,
Of youth, and fun,
With hope in the charcoal,
I liked the lad.
 
Older “N” who had,
A lot of stories to tell,
Of exploits, and boasts,
                                    A stint in goal,
Always made me laugh,
With jokes and a pun, fun;
I liked the man.
 
A true soul in “T”,
With her cocoon,
Of loving daughters;
And a hubby,
Unlike me,
Strong, level and kind;
Faith held them all strong,
We cried together,
I held her hand;
Connection of pain;
To healing trust we did make;
I liked this woman of grace.
 
And “G”,
Who was like,
The cartoon “Tasmanian Tiger”,
Said, and I quote,
“I’m a morning person and a night owl as well”
Many a wise word to share,
As with her kids she said it was,
                                    “Do as you’re told”
She laughs at herself,
To hide a broken heart,
I liked the woman,
                                    But, saw her once cruel,
                                    It hurt me more than her victim.
 
In a conversation,
I met tall dark “J”,
We only spoke the once,
But it was deep,
And heart felt,
A first Australian,
With heart and soul,
I connected through,
                                    Stories of brothers,
                                    And kin,
                                    And land.
I liked the man,
                                    My respect for his thoughts,
                                    And culture,
                                    Lingers still.
 
I met an old soul,
I like the change,
                                    In me, for it,
I hope I will live,
                                    Long,
                                    Live well,
                                    Live love,
Into my old soul.
 
… and passing hellos,
… and RUOK’s
                                    Except for young “C”
                                    Who thumbed up or down,
Like in roman times,
                                    Reporting her day.
 
… many moments,
Of actual connection.
 
To much or to short,
To say the love you think.
 
It is an instant,
It is now,
My history of finding me:
… the empathy,
… my listening,
… my understanding,
It is nothing but love.
 
I got to know the man,
I got to know the woman,
The true person,
The person, I didn’t like,
                                    On judgement,
So often wrong.
 
I brought to me,
The man I didn’t like;
Me;
I got to know him better,
Through them.
 
I like the man,
I am growing into,
I like the man today.
 
Thank you,
To the people I met,
I got to know them,
And the people I have to meet.
 

“Old Soul”
 
I walk through life,
The people pass me.
 
Young, so full of life,
Those on the middle path,
And twilight in the eyes of many.
 
Today I met and old soul,
Much life was in their face,
The body no gauge of it.
 
Their eyes looked straight into my heart,
And words at moments needed,
Inspirations, connections to soul and land.
 
Fellowship kinship,
And the osmosis of wisdom,
Through a soft touch.
 
The old souls,
Are among us,
Search for them,
Find them.
 
They may find you,
In your time of need.
 
Look for the signs.
 
And in the moment,
The old soul gives,
Of time to you; 

Be peaceful,
Be grateful,
Be Non-Judgmental,
Be forgiving,
Be accepting,
Be here, in the moment,
Have belief.
 
Carry from them,
This old soul,
In your heart,
Your, Deeds,
Your new and old mantras
 
Now in;
Peacefulness,
Gratitude,
No Judgment,
Forgiveness,
Acceptance,
In all the present moments,
Of now,
Find live in the moment.
 
In journey and treks,
In life,
Find the old souls.
 
Live well,
Live long,
Live love,
Into your, old soul.

“Sylvia”

Robins are red,
My sadness is blue,
My heart is bleeding,
But, not from you.

Can you feel the atmosphere,
Can you breath the air,
Please beg me,
So I can care.

This world makes me cry,
But why should I,
You know better,
We all did,
So why am I still in this shit?