Water Song

Flat, calm, clear                                                                  
crystal pool of water.
Intense everlasting gaze
at the deep mirrored image.
A tear forms – swells,
slowly, ever slowly
the tear tracks 
to its destiny –
The giant tear of our Mother,
for a split second
it stops in mid-air.
The pain is clear within.
Pictures floating in salty liquid,
your own agony,
the agony of your people.
More than 200 years of torture
are revealed – the horror.
The massacres, poisoning,
desperation, imprisonment
as we are torn savagely
from the womb of our Mother,
the sacred Earth,
from whom we are born.
Your own terror appears,
creative torture of the oppression.
Yes, creative and so calculated
as no person could create
such havoc on another
by mistake or accident.
No, all the images
past and present
are man-made madness
the colonial plan
to dominate all.
The tear falls – unites.
Ripples form distorting features,
you panic in pure fear.
The colonial monster is victorious.
Your piercing scream wakens,
the spirit of the pool.
She sings a melody of water
tranquil in its serenity.
Your heart stops exploding
you are mesmerized
by her depth and beauty.
She gently beckons you.
The water becomes still
all is restored to order.
Lowering your face
you kissed both her and the image.
Thirstily you drink of her.
Your body both cooled
and filled with warmth,
fully cleansed and healed.
You gaze once more
to a reflected smile.
Standing tall and proud
victory is yours, ours
the people of the Earth.