Gathering Memories

As I trail through the lush greenery
the wind whistles behind my brunette hair playfully.
Closing my eyes in serenity, I lose all my worries, concerns, and fears.
I am away from all the injustice and discrimination
that our community is receiving.
I am away from the guns and the white
soldiers destroying our generations to come.
I am away from the yelps and shrieks of innocent
Gadigal children being taken away.
I am on the tranquil Gulaga trail of
what the white people call ‘‘nature’’.

Tears rolled down my dark brown face
as I recalled all the heart-warming memories.
The corroborees, the warm campfires
the dream time stories told by the elders.
The emu dancing, the familiar didgeridoo,
the face painting and my favourite, ceremonies.
It was all gone. Gone. Just like that. It isn’t a dream. It’s real.
I clenched my fits tightly as my heart shattered into thousands of smithereens.
How dare they take away our culture, our way of living, our lives away from us?

As I cautiously walk back to our community,
my eyes widen with utter shock.
A smile etched onto my dark skin which I am proud of.
The white people are no longer discriminating or abusing us.
The Gadigal children’s gleeful squeals of delight are back again.
The corroborees, the warm campfires,
the dream time stories told by the elders.
The emu dancing, the familiar didgeridoo,
the face painting and my favourite, ceremonies.
All was there.