Saturday, 7 August 2021

Shame




In nineteen sixtyseven
As a new Australian
An immigrant no less
Registered to vote
I was now entitled
To say whether
The Aboriginal people
Of this great land
Been here for about
Forty thousand years
Should be given the vote!
Was I proud?


Whiteys came scarcely
Two hundred years ago
“Terra Nullis”
 they said
Empty that is except for
A culture older than theirs
Art telling their history
Stories of their beliefs
A strict rule of law
Education for the young
Dancing to inspire
Songs to weep over
I was ashamed


11 comments:

  1. We have a long way to go as a society to begin to address the horrors inflicted on so many.

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  2. i get this, more than you can know. i own culture and ancestry wiped out here in the states, except as a novelty "pop religion". i really get this, very well said

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  3. it's a sad state, when the original people have no rights to vote. :(

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  4. Beautifully composed, sobering, insightful ... truth.

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  5. A quote by Brene Brown, "Shame cannot survived being spoken..." comes to mind when I read your poem. And empathy certainly comes through in your poem.

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  6. This is incredibly touching, Robin. Here, it was the displacement of the native Americans, whose traditions honored Mother Earth and cared for her. We, too, have our parcel of shame.

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  7. I so understand that shame. I feel it when people I know--and even like!--act like acknowledging another human's right is a charity. Makes me sick every time.

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  8. Ah yes we are coming into the light. Here in T&T our first peoples (Amerindians) even have a national holiday
    Happy you dropped by Robin

    Much❤love

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  9. Well said!

    We are only just beginning to realise how much we have to learn from the Original People, e.g in managing the land. How much better if we'd started out differently. A white skin sometimes seems to equate with arrogance and short-sightedness.

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  10. Well we do grow up, hopefully!

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  11. Robin, good for the Aussies!!! Our American Indians have had a hard time, it sort of depends on the administration in power how much better off they get. For two years I had a summer job on a paving crew, making a paved road from my high school town to another 14 miles away. We, two American Indians and I, were the "form gang" with the three of us and an old Ford truck hauled the forms from the day's work up to another gang that was putting the forms back on in front of the mixer. It rode on the steel forms that we had hauled up. One Indian was older, he spent his lunch hour pulling his whiskers out using as curtain roller spring. I considered him 'wise'. The other was a young man who would be absent the next Monday after payday. I'm not sure what all he spent his check on.
    We never talked politics, I couldn't vote because I was not 21 and also had never paid as poll tax.
    ..

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