January 29, 2000

Vinegar & Bitter Herbs

The taste of vinegar
sharp upon my tongue
(Please, donít let my hurt,
pour acid,
burning out your sun.)

Bitter herbs
a vile and odious brew
(Please, donít let my bitterness
of heart,
prove damaging to you.)

Oaks astringency
to stop the bleeding .
Marrubium to banish gall

Hops, bear forgetfulness,
in nights of peaceful sleeping.
Please, let me share them all.

And, when the bitter taste
has left our lips

Hereís Rosemary,
for remembrance.

Posted by Midus at 04:57 PM

January 15, 2000

The Lost Generation

She broke a tribal tradition yesterday.
She spoke her dead motherís name
on national Television no less.
It was a plea for an apology
from white Australians.
Ordinary people.

Ordinary people,
with little idea of why.
Why should they apologise?
It didnít happen, not in their time.
They didnít settle here way back when
the land was roamed by the Aboriginals.

The land was roamed by the Aboriginals.
Seduced and robbed by the white man,
they lost their own, one true heritage
Condemned to live in segregation
then force fed missionary zeal.
Far worse was yet to come!

Far worse was yet to come,
The came in big black shiny cars.
They came and took the children away.
A generation, stolen from black families.
Their intentions were good, educate the kids
turn them into pseudo whites, train them well.

Turn them into pseudo whites, train them well.
Forget the grieving mother the angry fathers
who had lost their loving happy children.
Ripped from their parents with no say,
they lost their families and identity.
They lost their Aboriginality.

They lost their Aboriginality,
until education, a new generation
began to wonder about their tribal past.
Where is my family mother? Who are we?
The stories were told, anger ignited hot blood.
Where is my land, what is my name, my tribal name?

Where is my land, what is my name, my tribal name?
A call from the children of a stolen generation.
The courts are filled with Land Rights claims,
no easy answers, few settlements are made.
An apology would be an admission,
with deep regret it is not given.

She broke a tribal tradition yesterday.
She spoke her dead motherís name,
Looking for her sisters, her family.

Posted by Midus at 07:30 AM

January 09, 2000

On Losing Love

Each time I lose a love
I find I gain
experience and feelings
on a different plane

the act of letting go
though filled with sorrow
releases mismatched hearts
to maybe love again tomorrow

Old loves remain as friends
feet of clay and foibles known
they assist me on the path of life
love moves to another zone.

Posted by Midus at 07:26 AM

January 06, 2000

Windbreak Pines

Sentinels standing in a close ranked row
tall and straight in silhouette against the sky
Soldiers steadfast in their task a solid shield
against the screaming scarifying Winter gales.

Spring and the pines take on a different guise
soft sunlight filters through their outstretched limbs
draped in shawls of splendid silver tracery
each intertwined with next all in a stately line.

Steady soaking rain and cycloneís blast
make scant impression on the stalwart stand
stolid and stoic they maintain their ground
guardians of the growing sugar cane.

Autumn stays but a brief season in their lives
there is no change but in the shortening days
the pines serenely wait in single file
to fulfil the special reason they were sown.

Posted by Midus at 07:55 PM