By Lizz Murphy This poem is part of our April and May focus on Art and Human Rights.
Lizz Murphy has read her poetry in cafés and courthouses, feasts and festivals, schools and sculleries. She moved to the bush (Binalong NSW) over thirty years ago for fresh air and country schools and before long found herself commuting to work and writing on buses (you have to be fast). She has worked in publishing, arts marketing, arts and poetry development, community arts and the media (but not in that order). She has facilitated creative writing workshops from Nowra NSW to Nhulunbuy NT.
A pan cooked disk of bread a crude sun
a shanty of light catching unstaunched tears
She is to wear white the shroud of widows