At Mootwingee
You can see
Sand, shaol
And conglomerate,
And walk
Along gorges
Where ‘Crack Men’
Live in the cliffs,
And come out at night
To guard
The precious rockholes.
In an overhang
Ancient hands
Stenciled in fading
Yellow ochre
Tell a tiny part
Of the story,
While far above,
On top of a hill
Of solid conglomerate
A small pile of tools,
A workshop,
Now lies
Empty
And desolate.
We are told
That at night
Since the dawn of time,
The Seven Sisters,
Have kept watch
Over this place…
I bring home
Little memories,
Stenciled hands
Fading footprints,
The ‘Crack Men’
Chiseled into stone
Still keeping watch,
Goats roaming
The rocky ridges…
But every night
In the Northern Sky,
I can always
Look for
The Seven Sisters,
And wonder why
Even seven wise
And vigilant women,
In the end,
Were never able
To save
This beautiful place.
Tim Barritt. Circa 2001.
Earth Angel 181