The Scent of Their Soul
Once they walked many parts of this land
A people tall and tanned
They travelled along lines of song
Together banded by brother and sister strong
Their language bares the scent of their soul
In rock art lining walls of ancient water holes
It speaks through spirits of ancestor’s old
Fragrant of Country so olden, before even dreamtime stories told
A soul descendant from Wadjina
Bonded inextricably to land and culture
The creator of Country, of woman and man
It whispers between cathedrals of rock
Soulful ghosts - protector of past and present
Through their ceremonies
The young one’s listen through eye’s bold
Watching shadows dance round camp fire told
The scent of their soul
It lingers in the dust
In the ashes
In the creeks
It reeks of treachery past
A colonial collision
A mismatch of missions
Some stand up and listen
Others drown Christened
It’s time to give in to worry
It’s time to say sorry...
18 Oct 2014
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