The Hook

By | 1 May 2021


The Colony won’t let me breathe
It walks rough shod over
My very air
My country is cut open, bleeding
She has no tears to spare

I’m with my Country, with my
Family, my heart Boodjar, moort, koort
In the jaws of a vice

And you are helping them turn
The screw

We’re screwed


I had a dream of walking
On water, down the river to the sea.
Carried on the breath of
The ocean back to where
They have carved deep into my Country


I bleed ink, my skin is
Paper, my family was stamped
Scrawled recorded
I bleed ink


If not for wadjela’s paper we might never have found


My skin is paper
My bones are story


The colony won’t let me breathe
I am dying
The colony won’t let me breathe
I am drowning
The colony won’t let me breathe
I fight for breath
The colony won’t let me breathe
I learn to breathe water

I hide amongst the roots of a paper bark

We are as aware of the colony as a fish is of water
Send me a fish hook.
I bite. I bleed.
Let me bleed

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