The wind rustles the leaves,

Animals scatter around, unseen in the thick bush.

Everything is silent, calm,

Looking down the coast is like gazing upon paradise.

Long, wondrous plains of untouched beauty.

Suddenly an Aboriginal tribe starts running down the beach chanting ‘big canoe, big canoe…’

The whole family scurries down to the sighting, almost in a scuttling way,

The way crabs do,

Everything they do is connected to nature,

It’s always been that way.

In a few months their land and life has turned from a peaceful sanctuary to a war zone.

Aboriginal people scattered across the sacred land

White people everywhere

The once dense bush now a forest of tree stumps,

The once happy families now scared protective prey.

Even though all seemed lost they trooped on,

Even now when tall skyscrapers take the place of humble camp sites and leaf tents,

The power of the land lies within them

While the act on behalf of thousands of generations of ancestors,

As strong as warriors fighting of their country.

Only all they want is the desolate beaches,

Lullaby of the animals rustling about in the gums….home.

Everything they do is connected to nature,

It’s always been that way. Alicia F.

Aboriginal children from long ago,

Their real parents they did not know,

Taken away in the middle of the night,

Little children full of fright.

Mothers and fathers so, so sad,

Thinking what was done was really bad,

The time has come to make amends,

To try and live together as friends,

Now we would like to say,

We are so very sorry for that dreadful day.

Adam S