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Two hundred years ago a man walked the red, hot earth

Passing through his songlines spaces

A caretaker for all he sees, owning it is not his reality.

He wondered why five emus stood still,

They couldn’t run but it felt like home.

A hindrance was standing in their way.

And our man stopped. Puzzled. Spear in hand.

Innocent his attitude. Unable to understand

A hurdle stood on his journey’s path

A fence all barbed and taut.

Reaching far in both directions

A scar on land sold and bought


Copyright BreakAway Art P/L

The First Hurdle

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