Upon Bald Hill – Sini Salatas

Up a steep incline and through a rusted, broken fence. On to a disturbed nest of ants, scattering. Left pinkie toe throbbing.

Cleared land, at the edge of the world. Looking down on civilisation, under a blanket of darkness. Bald Hill—surrounded by towering gums, thick scrub, overgrown bushes.

Trees, shadows long and skinny. Comforting, enclosing us in this patch of barren land. High enough to see Port Phillip Bay, north to Bundoora and beyond the city skyline to Werribee. Low enough to hear the laughter and chatter of celebrations wafting gaily from down below.

Lights glittering in the distance, mirroring the inky sky above. The smell of moist earth, gum leaves. Fresh breeze. The smiling faces and contented murmurings of loved ones gathered to celebrate a beginning. And an end. Kangaroo droppings encrusted in the damp earth below. Wet grass—dewy in anticipation of a long night ahead. It will awake in the morning clean and renewed.

We are gods up here.

More people now. Stragglers, from the parties below. Drinks clinking. A gentle calmness. ‘How much longer have we got?’ It’s almost time now.

‘5… 4… 3... 2… 1...’

The sky explodes.

We are new again.