Poetry 'n Prose

In the Dreamtime

In the Dreamtime, clocks spins back
and forth at random,
keeps no time

the Earth’s creeping, mist smoking
hums a story half heard
in your ear,

The past’s dark chapter these
waters take me under
a drowned man

My pale face floating, in the lake;
the frightened waters
distorts my soul

For the blind crawling search
for what we’ve lost
we destroyed

What’s missing ? a true country,
the brave fierce spirit,
resolutely loyal,

Initiates a gentle hand, a loving
big-heart enough to sooth
our tears

Encouraging with your songs;
the child inside, freed
from being grown,

Your true mother protect us
forever more, forever
in the Dreamtime.

For ‘Queen Bee’ and the Arrernte peoples

By 67paintings

A dialectical site of poetry, painting and the odd musical excursion into the unknown.

7 replies on “In the Dreamtime”

Thanks mate, I wrote part of it in Alice Springs, where I was stunned at the dichotomy between to beauty of the ancient, possibly the world’s oldest living, culture and the segregation, racism and poverty I saw there. I asked those there, how can one bridge that gap?

I wrote “a loving big-heart, enough to sooth our tears…. the child inside, freed from being grown”, as an emotion response to observing young homeless children on the banks of the Todd River. It’s still going on and whilst “solutions” are many, answers there are few.

It’s a complex question … one of those questions, to which inevitably has,’if only the world was different’ embedded within it.
Actually, I”m finding more and more of those same kinds of questions piling up as time goes by.

For me too…so many unanswered questions remain, and that’s OK and to be expected.

I’ve realised that any perceived wisdom rarely follows the pursuit of it. Wisdom, if it exists, is like the zen ‘Ox herding’ pictures; any approach to the Ox is difficult for, like wisdom, its keeps appearing and disappearing. I am not at one with it, it remains ever elusive. Finally when I think I have caught it, I haven’t, its caught me and lets me know with a proverbial kick in the pants.

Fantastic poem!!! And hey, while wisdom may indeed be elusive, in the meantime we roll up our sleeves and get out there to do our bit. And so some balance might be achieved between grief and joy. And with effort perhaps we get to tip that balance over time:)

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