The primary colours of our land

Send the gaze along a ripple

draw it back

and you will breathe in a gathering

of narratives, stories of stolen harvests,

and robbed water,

the then and now of a little take

and much giving.

Look!

The tree line parts

for the Waste Lands Ordinance,

and there where the water breaks and breaks

in sad heartbeat and longing,

did you see the spectre of indignation rise,

the blood that refused to fall,

the land that was not bartered,

the ways, tender and proud, that stood tall when it could,

bent low when it had to, but never ever panicked?

Look!

Look at the patchwork of green,

light, dark and in-between.

Do you see the cartographer, the advisor and the advised,

arm in arm laughing,

or with grave face expounding on scarcity,

efficiency and productivity?

Do they spell ‘futility’ in not so many words,

do they make you cry?

Sit here until twilight

and let dream converge with prayer

and life will come calling,

not as equation or balance sheet,

but as palms clasped in prayer,

small white flowers and a lamp,

a murmuring, a how-are-you

to an ancient god, benefactor, friend and dependent,

Listen to the night!

It whispers: time is longer than life.

Stay awhile, you don’t have to go.

Offer a tear and a smile

for people who came

and things that will arrive.

[From the poetry collection 'Threads', shortlisted for the Gratiaen Prize 2007]