surrounded
by Night, a circle
of warrior Trees rattle
young Spears against
seasoned Bark.
they watch...
flicker of a wisp of
something
moving there amongst
them, see?
they watch! the Trees
are talking, moving,
alive with their
Spirit people.
they whisper...
sucking songs up from
undisturbed yarns in
in the deep below,
touching them with
fingerey Root tips,
breathing damp voices
into the windy sway
of branching hands.
Eucalypts caress
the Sky,
remembering memories
in Star Ochre blown
onto the Night.
they watch.
gigantic and hidden,
standing trunk to
canopy -
old Aunty there,
old Uncle over here,
Spirit faces of Trees,
peering out,
looking down
right into us.
they watch...
her eyes are on me -
"I know you," she sings
through the Breeze,
it's path pulling
Rivers of Bats from
this heart into her
blossoming hair.
we are connected.
eyes close to fly
with them, to sway
with her, to dream.
still, they watch.
hear her creaking,
groaning bones as
she dances the
Tree songs bare,
alive.
gnarled old hand
reaches, dropping a
Gum Leaf touch
on me with
Raindrop splatters.
every sparkling bead
is alive with stories,
soaking into dry,
thirsty skin.
they watch.
hidden amongst
the Leaves -
Grandmother faces,
Grandfather faces,
surrounded
by Night, Bats, Stars,
and circles of warrior
Trees crawling with
Shadow people.
always, they watch.
they watch.
they watch.
*Poems and artworks by Sara Kian-Judge 2021
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