Ngarnga

Acceptance                      And                           Resistance

I am destined,                                                  To braid myself 

  To this Earth,                                                    On Country,

  My roots intertwined,                                          Beneath sunkissed land,

  Drinking blistered oils                                       Of a sun-drunken dance—

To be rooted, unable to move,                        Opened possibility to observe.

 I watch the leaves                                             Clashing against each other,

 Screeching like a violin                                        — a painful symphony —

  “Do you see me?                                               I ask:   Can you hear me?

 I’ve been twirling all night long.                      Is it time to join my Brother 

                                                                               on the forest floor?”

Flooding imagery does not                              Pronounce your name 

                                                                               in proper light—

Make the soil any clearer—                         Nor stifle the voice unspoken.

The ground lies dense,                                     As people begin to touch 

                                                                                 the untouched

And the flowers break their heads through   —We gasp for the little we left

                                                                                                Ourselves—