When Colquhoun walked his island 
with his wife and daughter, 
both of whom he dearly loved,
the ocean sung to him, wind made melody, 
tree branches gently rocked and swayed 
and clear water from running creek gurgled. 
Songs of joy arose inside Colquhoun 
and his whole world was glorious and bright.

Across the sea, on numerous neighboring islands, 
came frequent boom of gun or cloud of smoke, 
distant cries of afflicted women and children 
and the angry shouting of male voices. 
Occasionally, floating with the tide,
came a reeking stench of horror 
that Colquhoun towed out to sea 
and let the tide take it far away.
They were the oppressions of other islands. 
They were happening to other people.
Besides, what could he do?  

As he walked and sang his island songs
Miriam grew from child to woman.
With the urgent restlessness of young life, 
she looked with yearning across the sea. 
Then a man sailed, stopped and stayed, 
a man different to Colquhoun: 
gruff, non-verbal, no interest in beauty, 
but hard, muscular and young. 
Miriam looked at him and loved him
and he took her from the island.
Colquhoun watched her go, 
wished her joy in the same deep union 
that had been his great good fortune.

Then the insular Colquhoun, 
who all his life had been pre-occupied with his own joy 
and previously, untouched by grief, 
returned to his walking and island songs, 
but there was an emptiness in his music, 
or a sadness he tried to shake off.  
Miriam had disappeared.
He only saw her in his dreams.
Then, in one fearful dream, he saw her. 
She was shrunk into a corner, 
tearful and wringing her hands. 
“I don’t know what I have to do to please you.”

Then he dreamt ugly and angry words.
“You’re nuthin but a fucken waste of space. 
I give ya fucken everythin and whatdya fucken do. 
I’m workin me fucken guts out 
and the place is a fucken pigsty.
I doan want another fucken kid. 
Ya got one already. Fucken get rid of it”

When, sweat-covered and heart thumping,  
Colquhoun woke, all his music was gone. 
There was sound but no melody 
and above the noise of wave and wind  
Colquhoun now heard, as he never had before, 
the great cacophonous cries of the broken world 
and one well-loved voice rising higher than all the others. 

Then Colquhoun made his preparations. 
He inspected his little boat, stocked it well 
with provisions for long voyage by sea, 
begged Elizabeth to come with him 
even when he knew in his heart that she could not. 
There were animals to look after. 
Responsibilities to which she must attend.
She would stay and he would go alone.
She stood silently on the beach and watched 
as he rowed out past the breakers, 
and through tears saw him raise his sail, 
set course for the nearest island, 
and disappear behind the headland.

She turned and walked to her home. 
Her heart was filled and feet were heavy. 
Her shoulders, usually so straight, slumped.
Her world suddenly changed. 
A shocked numbness consumed her. 
Bleakness replaced beauty 
and dark thoughts would not let go.
Would he find Miriam? Would he bring her home? 
Would she want to come?
Would she ever see Colquhoun again?