Window Work: A Resource for Poetic Reflection

At a Reconciliation Conference in April, I was tasked with the final speakers slot at the end of the day. A significant portion of the day involved a yarning circle with almost 30 Elders from the Illawarra and South Coast. Participants whom came primarily from Early Education backgrounds, had an opportunity to hear - and feel - these stories in all of their power, weight and grace.

In the lead up to the conference I tried to envision a most meaningful writing exercise that would both allow participants to reflect on their teachings, and share their heart space with the room and the Elders in return. I arrived at the exercise of Window Writing or Window Work. What was conceptualized follows the prompt below, that I now offer as a resource to any writers or educators dealing with a large group and with sensitive content.

The writing prompt:

Window Work Prompt

Once final poems are produced and published on paper, participants are then encouraged to hang their works on a window in their classroom, home or office. For when we look into windows we often see our own reflection, as narratives of the world around us often reflect our own values, ideals and spirit. If you have not yet noticed, this exercise is grounded heavily in White & Morgan's Narrative Therapy (2006). However, stripped back, it relies on creativity, space and place-based reflection. Read more on Narrative Therapy and community work from the Dulwich Centre here.

With an emphasis on emotion, the following poems were written in response to the above Window Work Prompt at the Reconciliation Conference in April (2021). I would like to thank and congratulate the participants and contributors to the genesis of this reflective practice. Happy reading...

Note: Some poems were intentionally left anonymous by the author. All works are shared with authors' consent.

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Sharing, together, love, respect, new understanding, care. Ceremony, learning, smiles.

Team participation.

Truth, sitting in the space of truth.

Elders and their generosity spirit and soul.

By TKD

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People smiling and laughing.

Maybe being back together after a big absence. There is also a sinuous tone.

People are listening intently.

There is a group of people being shown great respect. Again, there is intense listening, soul, respect.

Coming together over a meal, new connections, old friendships. Then sinuous work again.

People care.

By Megan Dodds

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The orange morning sun welcomes me here today, I anticipate of the journey ahead of me.

Reconciliation. What does it mean to me?

I picture white and black, and everything in between walk hand in hand,

Into a brighter, truthful future. The sun shines perfectly on the elder’s real and raw past.

By Jayde Everson

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I see the connection of young and old,

A variety of cultures and genders all around.

Laughter and tears following the exchange of songs, stories and history. Beautiful colours, sounds and smells come and go through each activity shared.

From the hurt and paint of the past is gratitude for those who have gone before us giving hope for the future.

By Tina McGhie

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A listening bowl of curious spirits.

Meet shining eyes, warm wrinkled and living yesterday, today and tomorrow. Sharing moments, respect.

By Karen Rogers

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As I open my eyes,

I see many humans, Male and female, Dark and light, Sitting together Sharing ideas, Laughs.

Sharing respect.

I see what the world should be, A world that I want to be part of!

By Ros Webb

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I see potential with reservation. I see barriers and barricades.

I separate my thoughts from my feelings. I hope for a better future,

But I fear it is only a fantasy.

I want a better future for my son. But I worry it will never come true.

By Maiquilla

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Raw emotion gently spills across a table of open minds,

And open hearts all listening to the vulnerable words she finds.

By Prue

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Vulnerability shakes voices from inside as the minds throw back to what was an education devoid of recognition, compassion and awe.

But everyone is focused and listens, head up, eyes wide, minds on.

And together they alter their history, acknowledge culture and listen to song.

Elders talk and share through story, with keen hearts, they’re all connecting.

And white wisps blow up and through their hands as uncle in language whispers

There’s connection to culture.

By Lauren O’Flaherty

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Some speak softly, some speak loudly Some listen carefully, others talk proud. They come together to speak about truth,

together healing to make a better world for our youth. Our future leaders will stand strong,

Working and walking together to right the past wrongs.

By Shannon McIvor

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Wrapped in a green embrace mountain surround me. Centered a white glass box,

A sea of people, murmurs, laughter, soties, sharing. Strength, determination.

Sometimes falling, never failing. Getting back up and rising together.

By Manola

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Upon the glimmering morning sun, Aunties and Uncles in attendance. Listened to the Yidaki song.

To the enjoyment of all who could be seen through the smoke screen. Everybody, who participated in the smoking ceremony became cleansed.

By B.Meton

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The people sit, today they become a community.

St Rangers in circles soon discuss the biggest issue facing out country. Speaking of values, hopes and healing.

Sharing stories and listening to experiences. The strangers become confidants,

The hopes become action plans.

We leave united with a purpose and a promise.

By Ge

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Open ears, Open eyes, Open heart.

Elders sharing stories without fear. Elders answering questions not provided.

Humbled, privilege, humanity, love, understanding. Embracing, frustration, continuing

Thinking of my lens and in perspective of others. Warm, calm, smokey encompassing to connect. Provoking and challenging current

By Kate Kennedy

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Reconciliation is the theme for today. Talking with elders made a better day.

Understanding our history is why we are here. And some of shredded a tear.

Now we are finished, I’d like to say it has been amazing in every way.

By Sylvia Timbery

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Warm Sun and singing birds. Elders come to share their words. We sit and listen, learn the truths.

Stories we hear shape out thoughts.

The smoke is mesmerizing as it goes, we breath it in And acknowledge the ceremony, respect the land. A journey we walk, together we talk!

Hopeful we look to the future.

By Maria Villella

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I see life lived on the faces of the Elders.

I listen to their stories of family, culture, land which they share with delight.

I hear the sadness in their voice of stories of racism, discrimination and stolen generations. I am overwhelmed by shame a sadness at the truths told.

My journey of conciliation has begun.

By Kathryn Barker

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Listening, Truth, Respect, Country.

I see people crying, sharing the hurt, sharing the truth. Generations together learning, listening,

going on a journey together of hope, of change, of conciliation. People absorbing new knowledge, understanding and empowerment.

By Kiley Guillaume

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Talking, listening, learning. Stories shared from elders, Passed from old to young,

We listen with patient and open minds, Learning as new concepts are considered, Taken on to teach further,

Into our classrooms and out homes. Hope, hurt and healing,

Shown clear through many eyes. Stories heard, lessons learnt,

By many with open minds. Today new relationships grow,

Understandings is built between one another As we live in the moment together

And join as a new mind.

By Marg G

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Watching the moon and sun greet each other, warmth flawing over the sky.

Bodies filled with excitement and anticipation. Feeling the love of my Elders surrounding me, Cheeks covered in kisses and sore from smiling. Time to learn, mouths closed and ears open,

Will we ever really understand what it means to ‘stand on the shoulders of our Elders’?

We sit together with discomfort and yarn about how to draw. Food arrives and brings laughter,

We are all a little different, Minds now expanded, Never to be closed.

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I see colour but no hatred,

I see wisdom and being open minded

I see stories of lives, both past and present. I see a lot of people, who value presence.

I see a lot of Elders whose aura is radiating,

Their favourite way of sharing … communicating.

I see a lot of show and tell, Yarning about their lives in hell. It’s up to us to learn and grow,

So future generations can rise and grow.

By Michelle Toms

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Filled with conversations Listening and learning, Introductions rife,

Apprehensions followed with relief, Sharing knowledge, reflecting, relearning. This is my window.

Leaders both standard tall, Leaders sitting listening, Do they see it?

Change, a buzz in the air, Tears fall, silence, respect. This is my window.

By Bianca Hunt

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A noisy room full of open minds,

Attuned to the voices of the truth, wisdom and culture. Exchanging feelings through warm connections

As smoke fills the air towards healing.

By Vanessa Ford

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The mist on the grass rises, Learning the earth cool and clean. Crisp air fills my lungs.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

The day smells of fresh opportunity. To learn, to grow.

As the light filters through the trees, I am left with a feeling of happiness.

Happiness that all things are possible.

The world is changing, and we are connecting. Coming together with ideas and stories.

Stories of pain and joy and strength. The day grows long and sun dips away.

Hope for the future grows on the horizon.

By Jimena Roy

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Wizened faces gazing gently toward the front. Safe, yet sad.

Hopeful, yet frustrated. Others leaning in.

Intent, respectful, commuted. The light outside fades

Hope grows

Soft voices, quiet laughter

Old friends, collogues, family to come, connected Deep and long

Fresh and new

Reflection in the window. I am here.

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I can’t imagine how we’re going to join together.

Talking about trauma Moments of terror and fear

As if they are easy things to talk about.

We’re loud and quiet at once.

We hear and learn.

Becoming reflections of our teachers, We’re frightened but hopeful all at once. That’s how we join them together.

By Marisa. V.

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Healing journey, Hearing stories, Asking questions, Cultural safety, Conciliation together, Acknowledging past, Supportive space, Genuine vulnerability, Walking together.

By Kristie Field

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Reconciliation.

Raw. Confronting. Necessary. Listening. Hearing. Learning. Looking back to go forward.

Looking out. Looking in. Window. Reflection. Reflecting. Remorse. Sorrow. Hope.

Coming together. Uniting. Inspiring. Change.

Challenging … Energy. Passion. Pride.

Spirit. Identity. Faith. Hope.

By Anabel Mifsud

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Laughter and tears and stories and songs and sounds of identity once lost. Together they come to share and love and hear truth.

They learn, they work, they look toward a future of hope and pride And one where identity is found.

A question rings out – what is connection?

But through the window I see people connecting through sharing, learning and vulnerability. A rainbow of hope, through the window I see.

By Louise Windisch

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Sitting around the table

Talking about what is able to change. Listening and reflecting.

Open-mindedness and healing. Have conversations.

Don’t forget to listen and be embraced

By the stories and people that surround us.

By Shania Perl

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People sharing

People staring at people new and old For its stories that bond us

From the past to the new.

A hidden gen with lots of trees The smell of coffee

A hum of noise Finds greeting Strangers smiling Vibrant colours The hint of smoke Waving arms, Great food.

By Lisa Booth

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Talk, talk, listen listen Tears well, heart swell. Talk, talk, listen, listen. Paint, truth, shame, hurt. Talk, talk, listen, listen.

Hope, connect, urgent, action. Talk, talk, listen, listen.

Breathe, skill, rest, peace.

By S.H

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People sit People laugh

They like food and tea

But mostly they are quiet, and they listen. Elders love and share their stories

Bravely share soties of trauma and heartbreak. People talk about important work they do

The people who are sitting listen.

The people who are sitting are eager to learn and connect. The people who are sitting want to do better.

For our communities.

By Carly

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I see my mother in pain and total strangers rallying around to care for her.

I see this continue throughout the day as strangers have now become friends. People we met at the start of the day, hug to say goodbye.

There’s laughter over coffee and cake.

And wonder at the warmth of the day.

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Empowered Respect Connected Truth.

The window opens and the journey begins The looking, the listening

And feeling the soties to guide us on our, individual and shared path.

By Andrew Adams

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Connection brings us together today. Values are our core.

We often comprise our values for others But Why?

We are hopeful for change Amongst our tears

And watch the sun set

On a day where we are connected.

By Donna Bartley

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Warm embraces.

Connections renewed and hearts uplifted. Talk with us not for us.

By Kellee

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Stories and journey’s shared with each other, Hopeful for a future where we walk as one, teaching, learning and laughing all under one sun. Values and hopes driving us forward,

Together we learn, together we grow.

By Kelli

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Hopeful Mixed culture

Yarning, conversation, learning Sun shining through.

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Sorrow Love Pride

Frustration Nurture

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Connection Conciliation Listen

Acknowledgement Shame

Values Sadness Truth Hope Journey

Empowerment

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Enjoyment Overwhelmed Inspired

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Time away from the children

Time away from the children

Time away from my team

Time away from my preschool. New learning to take place.

A space for connection. Reflection.

How can I use the stories I hear to become a better teacher? A better mentor? Leader? Human?

Where will our learning lead us? Where will our learning end?

How will today’s connections, stories and space

Extend my knowledge about the past,

Keep me in the present and lead me into the future.

Such a beautiful place to ask questions and consider new ways Forward with like-minded thinkers and a beautiful pink sunset.

By Michelle Lashbrook

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I sat and watched her smile as she told me of painful stories from her youth.

Every line, wrinkle and age spot added to the beauty of her words which were kindly spoken to educate me about the suffering she had experienced through no fault of her own.

The gentle grace with which she told her truth,

Was in no way designed to shame me, revealed her strong, Wise and forgiving spirit.

Her hope for a future free from the hate she had grown up

With shone in her smile, the sparkle in her eyes and her question to me. So much forgiveness.

So much dignity.

A determination to have her message heard. I am in awe.

By Merran

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As I open my eyes

I see people gathering from all walks of life.

People smiling, laughing, coming togetht after a long absence. Elders and presenters, generousity of spirit and soul.

Sharing respect, I see what the world should be A world that I want to be a part of.

By Megan’s table

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I see a beach of shimmering golden shells

I trace the sound & smells of tea & stories

that sweep a sun lapped porch.

Here people sit in circles & speak truth.

Ideas & moods swirl between Elders & youth.

Like a shot of coffee when blended with warm milk

Young enthusiastic energies, blend with Elderly wisdom.

I hear Aunt sing out: Dont forgit the biscuit!

Transactions & exchanges in the invisible currencies of respect & stories.

‘Because conversation is the best way to experience story’

At times, glassy eyes match number of table glasses.

People here respect one another.

They cleanse themselves with white smoke & honour the earth, their mother.

I now know how the butterflies were born.

The world in which was once torn

Is filled with healers, storytellers & memory-keepers

Dedicated to softening & ironing the creases...

So that those of us who have just been born

Won’t stumble & fall

But grow humble, yet tall.

By

Dakota Feirer

Trees Leaves Solemnity: a contextual auto-analysis

Trees Leaves Solemnity: a deep-voiced lost boy story is an earlier poem in a body of work that reflects deeply on Indigeneity, nostalgia, romance and trauma (among many others). Written on Kanawhake Mohawk lands (Montreal, QC), the poem reflects on a romantic encounter whilst living abroad. The encounter inevitably ends, as time overcomes all. Leaving questions surrounding the lingering impermanence of love in a young man’s life, and a deeper interrogation of the trauma and social cognition associated with fuckery and fuckboy behaviour.

The poem tells of different moments in time and ancestral memory, reflecting on truth and history, at times in an effort to rationalize the conditions of toxic and hypermasculinity in the colonial project of the (so-called) 21st century. The cascading structure represents the shifting elements of country, especially in the cold and isolating fronts that encompass Kanawhake in the winter months. The structure also reflects the imagining between past and present - always moving back and forth.

This work is inherently healing - as it identifies trauma in an honest way. Leaving not much more to ponder, other than a path to deeper understanding of systemic toxicity; and an openness to developing positive relationships with self, romance and emotional health.

Read the poem in full here...

Trees Leaves Solemnity: a deep-voiced lost boy story

three green oak trees lined the street across from my balcony

that same place she first handed her cigarette to me

still imprinted with her dark red lipstick

knowing I would eventually taste it

along with that sapor of cheap red wine

that night I was hers and she was mine

a love endowed and governed through time.

day by day, outside grows colder

the trees leaves change in colour and start to wander

day by day, our hearts grow fonder

though eventually, the falling leaves dance like ghosts in the street

like diligent thieves, they stole her away from me.

now all I know is

solemnity

and all I see are

trees

with no

leaves.

it’s been months and I'm still feelin less like me

been smokin more than usually and can't stop listening to RnB

sleepin is never easy

haunted by dreams and memories of histories

histories of magic, romance and ancestry

histories where real men were born from matriarchies

but I wake up to a contrast

a deep-voiced lost boy

forced to live in a heteropatriarchy.

still feel it in my dreams, the history

thrown in chains by foreign names

forced a discourse that says: emotional pain does not equate to being a strong male.

I guess a teardrop cannot travel through a suit of chainmail

probably had ancestors that wore that shit,

high probability of being called a bitch for expressing all of this.

What choice does

a deep-voiced lost boy

have?

fuckboys don't cry

fuckboys lie

fuckboys don't even have a heart inside.

so then I asked why?

why is it when she left it killed me

but I only wished I had died

that way I wouldn't have realized,

that pain travels in circles

and never in straight lines

if I was born before history - as a real man

I would build you a house full of sunlight

with no glass ceilings

and you could surpass my success

without damaging my feelings.

I still wrestle with the words

man

and

meaning

in the so-called 21st century

now I can barely stand tall in sight

so I threw away my spine

now every kiss tastes like spite

doused in cheap red wine.

By Dakota Feirer