Silver gums shiver in the gold sun,

rivers cracking redly in their deep

Blossom birds in wilden roars

now howling while they sing—
Nature tells us what it means

There’s none in thieved inheritance—

Rending, cleave and break the word,

unholy in our being, but
We are not native—we are

too far and lost from Mother—

Many mothers across the sea

saw nothing sacred in this country
And after war our embers flee

aground in earthen blazes—

Brewing flames, infernal veins

and soon, we’ll blacken trees