Saturday, July 23, 2011

Requiem for David Ngoombujarra

Early morning, they found you in a park
Lying on the manicured lawns
White folk enjoy
Your black arms stretched out
Feeling for the red, home dirt
Your eyes stare blank up to the skies
Of your dreaming desert ancestors
Cut off from your spirit guides.

You were alone
Where were your family?
Where were your friends?
Where were you tribespeople?
Where were your fans?
The audiences who watched you,
As you walked with one foot
Caught in dreamtime skies
Dragging the other, a crippled limb
Bound to the white man’s world
Maybe you had to go
To be healed
Of the malaise
Given you in return
For your stories
For your dreams
For your spirit
That became so twisted
In time.

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