The past shall not die
Nor will it wither.
Our being is a mirror,
And our blood a testimony.
I listened
In this moment, a moment man-made
Shows one half of me,
Whose whole being
Is so much of the past.
In the outskirts,
Nigh time falls as I stand
On the verandah, bare foot on the soft redwood
Chilled by an invisible force, I slip into darkness:
I am away
Letting my feet envelope in the sand, where
My other half,
Sings and dances near the mouth of the shore,
Serenity within me,
Significance around me,
The elegant waves thrust against the face of the earth
Dancing to their own melody.
Symbols and patterns are like words speaking to me,
Living
And
Breathing
Through me.
My people are one with the stars,
Nature's offspring
Who have guided them to shelter, their motherland.
Victorious are we,
The sons and daughters of our mothers,
Who have carried the burden for us.
But in a world where man and woman are imperfect,
Flawed
The young have deserted
The old have departed,
We are left wanting to belong to the world,
Obscured and diluted by our own ego.
Dream...
Dream?
Are but the hopes of yesterday.
Let none tell me the past is wholly gone.
This now is not the all of me, the whole of me
For I am a shadow of my ancestor's past,
And
A sculpture of their future.
*This piece was inspired by writings of Maya Angelou & specifically Oodgeroo Noonuccal (Poem-Dreamtime)