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I can hear the chanting Of the language loud and clear I can hear them singing Without prejudice or fear And the dust slowly rises To the sound of stomping feet It’s like a pulse inside me I feel each and every beat Proudly they are dancing To an ancient age old song Adorned with precious ochre As they move and sing along The old men sit cross legged In the red pindan dust Tapping sticks and boomerangs Beating strong and robust There is no explanation For what I feel inside As I stand there watching I am full of Aboriginal pride The freedom on their faces Is a sight to behold As they stamp their feet You can hear the storylines unfold Their voices are so haunting As you listen to them sing Rising on the swirling winds It’s the most powerful thing I am mesmerised by the dancers As they jump and twirl and grind It’s something that has stuck with me It’s emblazoned in my mind
Thank you Nola for sharing your poem!