Words have been Mark Raffills’ stock-in-trade for over 40 years. Whether scribbling dispatches from the famine-stricken Horn of Africa or penning reviews of rock albums, or producing copy for a whole range of clients, the Nelson/Golden Bay/Snell’s Beach-based publisher and publicist, husband, father and grandfather, has crafted text as though his life – and the lives of others – depended on it.
Covered in dust
“…wearing three hearts on his sleeve, handling his damning desire like Little John’s staff, a bent bough from the strongest tree, consumed by the fire of inconsistency…”
So goes a couple of lines from my poem, Hallelujah; pretty much sums up the dirt road for me.
It’s about the parable, the heart and being our brother’s keeper; it’s got to do with the questions, the imperfections and the expectations; and what of the theology beyond the shadow of the steeple and who’s in, who’s out or are they half way in or half way out?; it’s about the desert hunger, the neon lightning and the dirt road we travel on.