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
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