© Terry Piggott
Winner, 2015 Broken Ski Award, Perisher NSW.
He sees it now this mystic place,
the birthplace of his ancient race.
And views a time that’s now long past,
before great changes moved so fast.
He dreams he’s on a stony hill,
the day is bright and all is still.
And standing there upon that Tor,
he sees his land just like before.
No towns, no roads, no mines or mills,
just sunburnt land and rolling hills;
with snaking creeks so harsh when dry,
that drain the land when storms pass by.
There’s ghostly gums and mulga trees,
that gently sway in gusts of breeze.
This ancient land unspoiled by man,
remains unchanged since time began.
Then looking out he views again,
the great salt lake and blue bush plain.
A sacred land and he can see,
the way the Dreamtime used to be.
His mind then drifts to tribal days
and lives again the old time ways.
His body soon is strong once more,
just like his forebears were before.
His spirit then was of this land,
from water holes to burning sand.
A proud young man of stealth and grace,
a leader of his noble race.
He hears the songs that used to be
and dreams about Corroboree.
Then comes the sound of stamping feet,
while Kylies click a rhythmic beat.
The vision then begins to fade,
away from where his mind had strayed.
Returning to reality,
from dreams of how things used to be.
Awake at last, he looks around
and sees once more a dusty town.
Remembers then the dreams he’d seen,
about a life that might have been.