A poem dedicated to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders and their kin.
I yet know your faces, I know not your names, I do know your smiles, and of your cultural ways.
I understand your dreamtime traditions, love of the red earth you wander, the stolen generations; colonial plunder.
I know of your connections to the land, sky and sea, yours is a culture of traditions in my belief something sacred, so important to see.
History is translated, passed on to further generations, through dreamtime and stories, proud and resourceful, your Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander nations.
The respect all display to each of your elders shows, that with time, honour and perseverance, a community grows.
Tribal leaders and their wisdom speak of respect for the inhabitants of the land of helping your mob, of lending a hand.
Your art and your music, it speaks to my heart. In its history and expression I long to be a part.
Can I share with you, what you have shared with me? Your troubles, your triumphs, a way of life shared in solidarity.
My stories, my heart and my life are all that I own; with in them is room, enough for everyone to walk about, to roam.
We could sit for a time; laugh, cry and sing. I could get to know you; you could get to know me.
In my dreamtime space, my dreamtime place, I have planted something all are welcomed to see; chosen to protect us all is the love in my heart,
As large and strong as the sacred desert bloodwood tree.
Image: Kara Brugman/Flickr