sand classroom
By Lulu Houdini
I speak an endangered language
when stories were taught in sand
it too, has been displaced
but the grains
remember the lessons
from that sand classroom
my mouth remembers a language
that I have hardly heard on the tongue
of my own flesh Mother, gunii
good thing
my Old Women are housed in me
like a relentless and returning tideline
who refuses to stay away
my old words find me
these lessons remain
in Land
chasing smoke
wuyugili
I feel a sorry day as I attempt to embody these words in air
I remember our forgetting
I long for that dirt school
I’m late for the bus, but I am running hard
our ancient language belongs to tree, dirt and magpie
dhulu, dhawun, burrugarrbuu
good thing
I am of this place
good thing
this old girl knows the way back
to the river Page.