Sensing the snakeskin glove I enter the black burned land ..consuming life...tipping point looming I enter a town of hidden faces, 'no entry' pasted on doors I feel the skin's pressure, a darkening world of disconnect and loss Struck then for a moment in wonder as the last sun rays light up the dancing Karri trees My crown of grass roots linking with earth's fine tendrils connecting fellow beings Breathing and listening, a space opens for sensing this canvas primed in rich layers Welcoming voices of clarity towards the politics of love.