WALK GENTLY

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Maureen K Clifford
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Joined: Tue Nov 09, 2010 10:31 am
Location: Ipswich - Paul Pisasale country and home of the Ipswich Poetry Feast
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WALK GENTLY

Post by Maureen K Clifford » Wed Nov 14, 2018 11:02 am

WALK GENTLY ... Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBark Poet 31.8.18

Walk gently on this earth, for our ancestors bones are here,
we know not how they died, whether from pestilence or fear.
Perhaps it was from alcohol, old age or just disease,
but over fifty have been found by modern expertise.
For many years they've lain here with their grave sites long unmarked
and 'twas only by the rivers flooding that a search was sparked
to find them and remove them far away from rivers lair
to inter them in safe ground in country far removed from here.

The river over time has eroded and flushed away
some of these people interred here, put others on display.
the spirits of those who have passed away cannot find rest
their plight has left the whole community very distressed.
The local men's shed fashioned wooden boxes for the bones,
they hope to have reinterred in a graveyard of their own,
for these were the neglected ones, the ones buried in sand
when the 'whites' graveyard was relocated up to dryer land .

With the Bunuba and Gooniyandi rangers taking part
then the Fitzroy Crossing bones will be ready to depart.
The Walmajarri elders have a smoking ceremony planned
to bless the project, ease the spirits path to their dreamland.
So now they lie in red soil under cerulean skies,
White crosses mark their resting place, as tears trickle from eyes
of families now gathered to pay respect to their dead.
Walk gently on this earth my friend - be careful where you tread.

Their graves covered in wildflowers scattered 'cross red pindan dirt.
The final words now spoken, prayers said to ease the hurt.
These people worked on stations, paid in flour, sugar and tea,
contributed to our nation's wealth, created history.
An eagle soars above, riding the heated thermals high,
bright sunlight glitters on his wings - all below hear his cry.
An emissary from the spirit world to guide them back,
as weary footsteps travel onwards. Onwards up the track.
Check out The Scribbly Bark Poets blog site here -
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/


I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.

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