where's the fun
here in the desert sun
when you talk with one
who can't see
the beauty...
shimmering air glinting off
red rocky rises, gaps and escarpments
leaves lolling lazily
across sandy river beds
the lands black feet walking still
remembering
a time when roads were nil
and whitefellas hadn't spilled
across their sacred land
when life wasn't planned
scanned and graded
into channels of control
now police patrol
tared streets
and black feet
keep
the rules
while we break theirs
it seems there's no breaking
through and
cultural walls
stall relationships new
yet in the suns shimmering heat
the country's still alive
with languages that understand
its rhythms, lands
as the sands of time run out
