Behind The Waterhole. Poem by Geoffrey Fafard

You the spirit of my dreams
Lie in the longrass
Singing to me on the warm wind
The smell of death still present
But not dangerous, rather reassuring
Of your presence and guidance
Barramundi dreaming, ancient and strong
Bringing me to an understanding
Of what to think about this land
You still swim through your brothers
In every lost and sacred river
You call and direct me
Sitting in shadow watching you
Listening quietly to the water
Rippling in the wind
Talking with dragonflies
I ask them about you the ancient
They in return along with
Swooping kingfishers, whistling hawks
Keep me in news of your spirit
Sweeping across this northern country
And yet lying at my feet here
Guiding me onto my next step
Behind the waterhole