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Kathleen Morgan


Sydney, NSW, Australia

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Kathleen Morgan

Not quite awoken from
the other side,
a haze clouds clarity,
perception is altered
by disorientation.
Inappropriate behaviours
manifest themselves like
unwanted guests, abrupt
and hard to tolerate.

Belonging To This Space


Kathleen Morgan

Going back in time,
to Warrane, Sydney Cove,
standing with the Eora
watching ships unload.
Seeing the white man
again stake claim,
to something not his,
by changing itís name.

Within a few days
it was obvious to see,
Terra Nullius was false,
the land wasnít free.
Still Phillip had plans,
a type of assimilation,
an exchange of learning,
to be the foundation.

So he made Tubowgule
the point of Bennelong.
No longer was heard
the ceremonial song
of the waters edge,
small pox took hold,
spreading through tribes
like the common cold.

Slowly the fences
spread over the land,
bush tucker locked away
from native hands.
While friendly settlers
offered warm bread,
laced it with poison
to add to the dead.

The warriors engaged
in an unwritten war,
Pemulwuy, Tedbury,
countless others swore,
to fight for the life
of their tribal land,
being exploited in a way
they couldnít understand.

The clearing of trees,
the fouling of streams,
the desertion of wildlife,
unfortunately werenít dreams.
Buildings covered burial sites,
middens crushed for lime,
the boar rings lost forever,
all in such a short time.

Standing at Warrane,
imaging pre-settlement days,
the respect and understanding
for Mother Nature and her ways.
The connection to the land,
knowing of our place
as just another species
belonging to this space.