Melbourne's Winds Poem by Basim Alansari

Melbourne's Winds
Basim Alansari
02/06/2026

On the forty-sixth floor, 
sleep became a negotiation
with the wind.
All night, 
it moved around the building, 
pressing against glass, 
whistling through unseen spaces, 
announcing its presence
with a confidence
usually reserved for living things.
…
By morning, 
I understood
why Melbourne speaks so often
about weather.
Here, 
the wind is not background.
It is a participant.
A southerly arrives
from the direction of Antarctica, 
cold enough
to make distance
feel tangible.
…
Hours later, 
the air changes.
The city loosens its shoulders.
Then comes a north-westerly, 
crossing the vast interior
of Australia, 
carrying the dryness
of landscapes
I have never seen.
…
The same skyline remains.
The same streets remain.
Yet something essential
keeps changing.
…
Perhaps it is because
there are so few barriers.
The land allows distant places
to arrive almost uninterrupted.
…
The weather here
is a conversation
between worlds
that never meet.
…
Standing above the city, 
listening through the night, 
I found myself wondering
whether people are much different.
…
How much of what we call
personality
is truly ours?

How much arrives
from elsewhere?

From childhood.
From memory.
From those we loved.
From those who disappointed us.
…
Invisible currents, 
travelling great distances, 
shaping us long before
we recognise their influence.
…
The wind outside my window
seemed restless.
Yet perhaps it was only honest.
It carried with it
the truth of where it had been.
And perhaps
that is all any of us
have ever done.
……