With the milk of her labours,

Pregnant with expectation.

The ancient Dynasties

Sleep.

Emperors are entombed

In museums.

The people of China

Are now the custodians of palaces.

And the wise old

Lotus plants

Nod their heads

In agreement.

Reed Flute Cave

I didn't expect to meet you in Guilin

My Rainbow Serpent,

My Earth Mother,

But you were there

In Reed Flute Cave,

With animals and reptiles

And all those things

You stored in the Dreamtime.

Pools of cool water, like mirrors,

Reflecting your underbelly.

The underground storage place,

Where frogs store water in their stomachs

And mushrooms and every type of fruit,

Vegetable, animal and fish,

Are on display.

Perhaps I have strayed too long

In this beautiful country;

The reed flutes are playing a mournful tune.

The cool air rushing through

The rock cathedral

Reminds me of the sea breezes

Of Stradbroke

And the reed flute seems

To be capturing the scene.

The slippery earth stone floor

Takes me back to mud sea flats,

Where seaweeds communicate with oysters

Fish and crabs.

Have you travelled all this way

To remind me to return home?

Uluru, your resting place in Australia,

Will not be the same without you.

I shall return home,

But I'm glad I came.

Tell me, my Rainbow Spirit,

Was there just one of you?

Perhaps, now I have time to think,

Perhaps, you are but one of many guardians

Of earth's peoples,

Just one,

My Rainbow Serpent,

Spirit of my Mother Earth.

Notes

The Rainbow Serpent is the Australian Aboriginal peoples' Mother of Life spirit. She is also their Earth Mother spirit. She plays a dual role and she is also one.

Dreamtime – the time before life, as we know it, began.

Stradbroke – Stradbroke Island, off the coast of Brisbane, Queensland, Australia.

Uluru – Altar of the Australian Aboriginal peoples' Dreamtime. Sleeping and resting place of their spirit, the Rainbow Serpent. Also known as Ayers Rock.

Oh Trugganner!

Oh Trugganner,

I weep for you,

For Lanney and all your race,

As I read Ryan's damning thesis

After one hundred years.

Your desperate guerilla warfare

Failed to oust the white foe,

And spilt blood and tears

Freely flowed

Over your much loved land.

Your race

Was the trophy sought

By the 'Christian, civilised' man

Who carried his depravities

Even beyond the grave.

Oh Trugganner,

I feel deep pain and sorrow

For the life he made for you.

What did you feel

When the foreign Doctor of Science

Stole like a thief in the night to the morgue

To cut from his body

Lanney's not yet cold head and his hands

In the name of 'Christian' science?

Oh Trugganner,

What did your dreamtime spirit feel

As it watched them take you after death

As a rare museum piece,

To stay forever

Under the rude stares

Of vulgar public gaze?

Oh Trugganner,

Destined to be

Not just the last of your race,

But a prized specimen for science too.

Oh Trugganner,

Let your restless spirit