“Our ferry is homesick, whistling again and again;
But still I see how the myth of a daylight bled
Standing in ribbons, over out heads, for an hour.” – Francis Webb
This is the last prose from the poem “End of the Picnic” by Francis Webb. I find the title of this poem very powerful – “End of the Picnic”. Nobody enjoys an end of the picnic, this means that you’re going home to your mundane life where you need to go ahead with your daily chores. Here Webb states that the ship he is on is whistling to reach the harbour, it sounds so impatient that it may almost be homesick. But he still sees the “myth” of daylight bled; as the dusk approaches and the colors start bleeding through the blue sky creating the illusion of bloodshed, in streaks of clouds like ribbons. Webb connects this to the history of Australia where there has been too much blood loss; he sees the battle of the beach and the sea on the sky above. The orange beach like the clouds and the blue ocean like the sky, slowly merging together. It causes an illusion of bloodshed, which is indeed a reality yet just a myth.
These powerful transports me to a boat as I’m returning home, thinking of all that was and all that could’ve been. But I’m powerless all I can do is contemplate these myths.