Notice of the estate agent reads: ‘Rubbish May Be Tipped Here’
We are the strangers here now, but the white tribe are the strangers.
We belong here, we are of the old ways.
We are the corroborree and the bora ground,
We are the old ceremonies, the laws of the elders.
over Gaphemba Hill
We are the lightning bolt
Qu ick r ter and e ibl And the Thunderer after him, that loud fellow.
We are the quiet daybreak paling the dark lagoon.
The eagle is gone,
the emu
an dt
he k
an ga roo
are gone from this place.
The bora ring is gone. The corroboree is gone.
And we are going.’
All about the country, From earliest teens,
Dark unmarried mothers,
Fair game for lechers -
Bosses and station hands,
And in town and city
Low grade animals
Was ever one,
One of all the thousands
Ever made responsible?
Is it a dark girl?
Then safe immunity
He takes what he wants
Shrug away the problem
The shame, the injustice
Turn the blind eye
Wash the hands like Pilate.