THE EXTINCTION OF KINDNESS (Title Poem)

get out of here someone yells

before the paddy wagons cruise past

a threat of death on rubber tyres

 

behind garbage bins we gather

hysterical at this insane game

smashing bottles over our heads

 

in the restaurant you tip your glass

savour food that you did not grow

pay with money you do not merit

 

once all people sat and ate together

every person sated in understanding

a mutual love the cultural lore

 

paddy wagons patrol their threats

behind the bins we are starving

we watch kindness become extinct

 

 

THE EXTINCTION OF US

once we made love in the coolness

under the wilga trees* where wrens* flit

making love beside us

 

now the trees are dying

and a hot wind exposes us

readying us for our demise

 

* a native tree (geijera parviflora)

* superb fairy wren (malurus cyaneus)

 

 

THE ABYSS OF AN APOLOGY IN AUSTRALIA

attracted to the neon light of an auction house

they stand in single file, the natives

selling their artefacts for food

 

one woman weeps clutching a coolamon

etched with kangaroos and sturt desert pea

her grandmother carved from a red river gum

 

a girl pulls gemstones from her pockets

fossilised birds of ruby red garnets

containing the songs of the old

 

a young man holds a bundle of spears

crafted by his grandfather before the missionaries

taught him the economy of rifles

 

a boy offers a branch from the bough shelter

under which his mothers were born

when his family was housed in happiness

 

another offers a stringless guitar

his uncle had used to write the music

for an award-winning song

 

an old man with long grey beard

grips music boomerangs in each hand

knowing their silence will be forever

 

there is little reparation for food

there is no apology for the past

there is no apology for the past

 

* a traditional large wooden dish

* the floral emblem of South Australia, also known as ‘kangaroo eye’ by desert people

* eucalyptus camaldulensis 

 

 

IT'S JUST SO WRONG!

Respect to the GunaiKurnai

it’s wrong to kill an eagle the old man said

sitting in the dark staring up at the sky

the embers of the campfire away with the wind

 

that badness gets stuck inside wrong ways

and I thought about that statement for a while

about how self-justification can be a crime

 

about how every farm is a fiefdom

about how every paddock diverts the natural

about how the need for capital can vile a moral mind

 

that badness gets stuck inside wrong ways

and we see it now in the newspapers

and we feel it now in the absence in the sky

 

it’s wrong to kill an eagle the old man said

staring up at the sky through his tears

orbs of spirit shining where eagles once flew

 

we sit outside the courthouse to sing our songs

we sing for the justice that is unjustifiable

we cry when the verdict is given

 

we sit outside the jailhouse to sing our songs

we sing for the massacres that litter our lands

we sit crying with feathers in our hair

 

Note: A New Zealand man has been jailed for 14 days and fined $2,500 for poisoning 406 wedge-tailed eagles at three remote properties in Victoria’s east in Australia. It’s the first time in Victorian history a person has been jailed for wildlife destruction. The farm worker said he poisoned the birds under the direction of his employer. Farm worker Murray James Silvester, 59, pleaded guilty to killing the protected birds at Tubbut in east Gippsland between October 2016 and April 2018. The court was told the maximum penalty for killing so many eagles was more than $350,000 or six months jail.

 

 

WIND SONG LAMENT

he arrives unseen, from nowhere

like a bird of prey, a sudden joy, curiosity

to the cherry-wood box he carries in his hands

 

together we celebrate his entry 

as we have been taught politeness

the best manners, an ability to wait for miracles

 

he teaches us a song; we sing

as he releases the hand-made box

covered by the fingerprints from many ochre hands

 

it is a box of wind songs

the sky rejoicing with tears and laughter

everywhere birds gather flapping air under their wings

 

the air under an owls wing is silent

noiseless with another resonance of air

listen for the pauses, the warnings, the diminishing

 

it arrives unseen, from nowhere

like the first day of school, an insult

the shock of being taunted for the colour of your skin

 

© Ali Cobby Eckermann