by Terry Johnson
You are on Indigenous lands swimming in Indigenous waters looking up at Indigenous skies looking down at Indigenous water creatures There is no part of this place that was not is not cared for loved
Those who are not Indigenous to this land are Settlers
This does not mean being a part of peaceful settlement
It means being a part of settler-colonialism
where invaders came and never left
The land I was born in has been stolen, Has anybody seen it? The immigration officer asks: “Nationality and reason for asylum?” I tell him I am looking for the thief of my land. Do you think he might be kind and return my stolen land to me?
The land is my Mother, my Mother the Land Your bloodline aches today The secret you spoke of remains no more
Our hearts, they cry of dismay Our brothers before and them before that Felt the brunt of the white man’s curse And as their blood hit the sun from the white man’s gun The spirits began to disperse
So we turned to the land, our Mother the Land For comfort, our refuge at last But the feeling was gone, brown children now born Not black like you gave in the past
Please take me back my Mother, the Land The white man he’ll never accept me
The milk that you part will soothe my heart and your spirit of place will hold me
The enchantment of night around camp firelight With your children black faces smile broadly As they talk of the day, in its original way and the power of the land, so Godly
They talk of your plains and inland rains That send your waters raging And the animals that roam in their hot desert home But your landscape is rapidly changing
You are my Mother, my Mother, the Land. You provide me for thousands of years But now your soul, like a rock waterhole Is drenched, not from water, but tears
#stolen land
