the fish i’m in horror watching him pull up the hooked fish on the end of the jetty where i am taking in the sunset and while i know i can’t do anything to save the fish from this accepted by most slaughter i look into the fisherman’s eyes and quietly say ‘that poor dying fish’ to which he shrugs but i get a sense by the look he gives the fish and me that just for moment hearing my words he completely falls into what i said and i suppose that counts for something re: the fish and the life it has lived on planet earth our shared home Mother Ganga i stand hold the rusty chain that stops bathing people being swept away and lower my body into the healing stream of Mother Ganga flowing fast into the plains of India from the Himalayas north and unexpectedly (for i am a sceptic until something is scientifically proven) i instantly feel my inner dirt being washed away and a renewal take place and i do know what i feel whether i believe it or not festering i have often wondered why we won’t return to those years through a conversation and put it to rest for good but we don’t bring it up and so it continues to sit festering like an unopened box of distress lurking by us each time we are together and it probably always will unless something changes between us again
Stephen House has won many awards and nominations as a poet, playwright, and actor. He’s had 20 plays produced with many published by Australian Plays Transform. He’s received several international literature residencies from The Australia Council for the Arts, and an Asialink India literature residency. He’s had two chapbooks published by ICOE Press Australia: ‘real and unreal’ poetry and ‘The Ajoona Guest House’ monologue. His next book drops soon. He performs his acclaimed monologues widely.
