Land walked through is land owned.
We learn this from Bill, boundary watcher,
teacher of creation songs, that mark
the rise and fall of rock and tree
of water and star.
Lines on the skin: red on white/yellow on red.
Initiation: the body becomes a canvas,
painted, cut, abraded, allowed to find union
with the smallest bird being,
the largest animal track.
And what of this union ?
There is an ease in this place
when the morning songs of cuckoo and
butcher bird enter the mind, come to stillness
and open the heart.
There is an awareness that even the ant
has a part in balancing the weight of the world.
To understand emu, enter, explore,
wear feathered headresses and dance in ceremony.
To understand long-necked turtle,
draw intimate details of the body-head and tail,
eat the flesh, learn the teaching.
Crocodile is considered, giant red kangaroo reviewed.
One, two, three brolgas beautifully aligned on the wall.
Mantis becomes a metaphor for medicine.
All have story, dreaming places.
Song lines wrap around the land, from
spring to spring, across valleys,
filled with the long grass, gum trees, rock formations
that rise like sandstone ships.
The footprints of those who came before
still rest on the rock; early man dancing on the mud ?
Creation beings emerge from within the stone ?
I do not own this place; my eyes are tired of looking for paint and line.
My skin is dry like paper, browned with sun and soil.
My feet have covered enough kilometers
to feel heels and toes through shoe leather and wool socks.
And yet, the heart mind has opened enough to let in a little wisdom.
