By Talitha Fraser

    I have believed in things unseen for as long as I can remember.
    I remember fairies, The Burrowers, Father Christmas and more…
    In the believing, one knows the power of things unseen, to work to our good, and the good of others, whether they believed or not.
    The seeds of faith were born here, among the flowers and thimbles, cycles and stockings.
    The seeds of faith were born.

    Lockdown happens and I plant seeds.
    Seeds are a little bit magic.
    So much potential in something so small, that it seems as if an invisible force is contained within.
    We baked cinnamon rolls and sourdough to rise.
    We planted seeds to grow tall.
    We would not be locked down.
    We would rise.
    We would raise.
    This was the resistance.

    Some of the most extraordinary magic happens in the most ordinary of places.
    Sharing hospitality around a common table, casual – or even delightfully intentional – touch.
    Spoonville was populated, but we didn’t eat together.
    We shared our teddy bears, but we could not hug. And yet… a connection was made.
    A taste, that wasn’t taste.
    A touch, that wasn’t touch.
    We wove ourselves together through a shared idea.
    A power, unseen, working for our collective good.
    After a long, dry, arid season, the summer harvest is here.
    There are seeds everywhere.
    Touch now, taste now – this magic.
    We rise.

    Talitha Fraser is a Footscray-based writer, bringing together poetry and photography, philosophy and theology, observation and mindfulness.

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