Molgaa-Mai Thor's day on Saturday the 31st of May 2008

Today is the first day of June.
Yesterday was a day like no other.
Several giant thunder cells had formed in the northwest on the edge of a cold front. Its cold front arm arced inward like a bow aiming its arrow.
The sky was darkening to the west.
Molgaa, I was thinking, molgaa is the name the Noongar had given what the old Norse or old Greek called Thor or Zeus, and it was they who were speaking.
Actually, I thought it was something bigger than any individual, something beyond the anthromorphic of human form or design.
I thought I could hear in the thunder roar and boom the words of nature, or the language of the earth speaking.
And I watched Molgaa, listened to the sound of the storm coming closer.
First I saw a bright bolt of lightening and then I heard the clap of thunder and in the old language of this land I was thinking: molgaa-mai waarngkiny, ngai-ngaiyanginy, kaarang-abin, aali maarman yaaraagat nyininy...boordu kep boorong bit-bitanginy ngientj nidja kaadidjiny, djooripiny!
Actually, beside the sound of thunder and rain and the sight of the darkening cloud, I spied the movement and sudden alarm of birds.
Outside the front of my parent's house I had noticed a sudden movement of the yellow-winged New Holland honey eaters (Phylidonyris novaehollandiae) flying to the Callistemon (King's Park Special) that sits on the verge of their property.
One bird within was signalling, crying in sharp chirps of alarm and at first I thought it must be the approaching thunderstorm.
But, all of a sudden, I noticed a grey goshawk swoop in.
Its eyes were bright yellow.
It looked my way.
It seemed to hold my stare.
And for the briefest moment I followed it in flight from the veranda where I stood in awe.
How did the birds in the callistemon know it was coming?
How did they know to sing out?
Obviously it was the bird's own telegraph line of communication.
They have their own signal in times of trouble.
I wonder whether they call the same way when they see a cat?
Anyhow, it came, for the better part of Saturday was Thor's day a day of Molgaa-mai this storm and its lightening was wonderous!!
Imagine if we knew how to harness such energy!!
I had read somewhere that if such a bolt was caught it could power a city for a year...or was that a month...?
Anyhow, today, the first day of June, the leaves beyond my window drift between calm and movement.
And as the sun is setting some are turning golden...
And still my mind is full with my memories of yesterday.

To quote that famous Jewish poet Mr Zimmerman:

As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in the sounds
Seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing
Flashing for the warriors whose strength is not to fight
Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight
An' for each an' ev'ry underdog soldier in the night
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

In the city's melted furnace, unexpectedly we watched
With faces hidden while the walls were tightening
As the echo of the wedding bells before the blowin' rain
Dissolved into the bells of the lightning
Tolling for the rebel, tolling for the rake
Tolling for the luckless, the abandoned an' forsaked
Tolling for the outcast, burnin' constantly at stake
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Through the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail
The sky cracked its poems in naked wonder
That the clinging of the church bells blew far into the breeze
Leaving only bells of lightning and its thunder
Striking for the gentle, striking for the kind
Striking for the guardians and protectors of the mind
An' the unpawned painter behind beyond his rightful time
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Through the wild cathedral evening the rain unraveled tales
For the disrobed faceless forms of no position
Tolling for the tongues with no place to bring their thoughts
All down in taken-for-granted situations
Tolling for the deaf an' blind, tolling for the mute
Tolling for the mistreated, mateless mother, the mistitled prostitute
For the misdemeanor outlaw, chased an' cheated by pursuit
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Even though a cloud's white curtain in a far-off corner flashed
An' the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting
Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones
Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting
Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail
For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale
An' for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Starry-eyed an' laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an' we watched with one last look
Spellbound an' swallowed 'til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an' worse
An' for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.