The drone of the didge
And the clap of the sticks
Where the termites exist
The goanna licks
His lips giving thanks
For the bird he has eaten
The people have power
But they have been beaten
Down by the whites
Through the clouds and the wrath
The lines in their faces
They are taking the path
Of the light through a darkness
The dreamtime and on
To the place of the heroes
Where many have gone.
Where the white spirits dance
In the spread of the flame
A land beyond time
Where the dark angels claim.
Their place in the aura
Three million square miles
Look into their faces
Witness their smiles
They are a lost people
With no place to go
Not given the courtesy to
Join the flow
They get just aloofness
And Ostracised they
Have their private world
At the end of the day
Hiddenness captures
The want of their soul
Releasing their purdah
Which lets them control
Their segregation
To ghetto’s where they
Witness the wilderness more
Everyday
They have a belonging
Their spirits are high
They have lived on this earth
Under their sky
For thousands of years
Their togetherness reigned
A credible people
Who should have never been chained
A gregarious people
With lots of street cred
They sang and they danced
And they joyfully led
Each other along
But what we now see
Is a standoffishness
To a people so free
A foraging bent
Such knowledge such grace
An enlightened people
Part of a race
Of true blown Australians
Owed lots of land
Owed much respect
Ascribable and
Needing the privilege
Of history
To recover their rights
And their
immunity
Their inalienable rights
And security
To be what they are
For all eternity