History despite its wrenching pain
cannot be unlived,
but if faced with courage,
need not be lived again Maya Angelou
there’s something in the shining light
that lends itself to thoughts of hope
perhaps it is a brashness – the way it glows
so cheerfully in this cloudless winter time
perhaps the way it dresses up the land
catches blue kingfishers on their wing
festoons the leaves the rocks the trees
today it lights the darkest claw on time
burns away clouds of brutal wrong
touches blood-stained earth
of blame of shame
too long consumed
too many years too many tears
one hundred and eighty years
now together we walk this way
the Myall Creek Memorial Way
the light plays the red gravel of its track
and flickers on tiny wrens in nearby scrub
there’s a quietness amidst camaraderie
swish of ropes yells grapple of chains
are stilled now
murdering rage and gall are quieted
smell of gun powder spent
yet screams that cried that stark cold night
still sigh amidst the sway
of stringy bark and eucalypt
there’s something in the shining light
that lends itself to thoughts of hope
perhaps it is the cleansing smoke the way
we catch the mica glint on granite stone
and how we stop and read and bow our heads
no longer in the blinding dark and listen
to a people’s heart and our shared history
(c) COLLEEN KEATING