Friday, 27 September 2013


He was heartsick for his country and homesick for his land
inside he felt he walked on foreign soil.
Still vivid were the memories though many years had passed
and all of them were spent at honest toil.
His face was dark and weathered underneath the shady brim
of his worn stained hat.  His eyes rheumy and red.
One heard the sadness deep within his soul when he did speak.
I never will forget the words he said.

“Life is about balance and it’s hard to get it right
to stay focused and on an even keel.
Let go of hurts and insults and move on and live your life
refuse to anger, despite  pain you feel.
Some folks do things because they can – others do them for good.
At times perhaps their thought process is flawed.
A stolen generation child I am and I tell you
 it hurts to see that problem still ignored.

As a child I knew great sorrow and  knew I did not belong
where I was, far from my family and home.
A child  taken from mother, cruelly torn out of her arms.
Many kids were stolen - I was not alone.
Mothers tried making light skin babies look darker somehow
by rubbing charcoal into skins too light.
It took quite some convincing the authorities to fool
but some were saved by this tactic all right.

And some folks they don’t understand where we are coming from
when we say we want justice for our plight.
They say ‘you’ve had a good life Mate’ and can’t see nothing wrong,
they don’t get it at all  - that's because they're white.
It’s a feeling deep inside and there are no words to explain
about lost culture – some don’t know their song;
or ancestors or totems or even their native home
they’re outcasts who don’t know now where they belong.

They’ve no knowledge of family for they were torn apart;
as wars tear families apart today,
no matter that we’re all old now – that fear remains within
we’ve no family to see us on our way.
I’m a stranger in my country, and still I search and pray
for family   – I'm sure you understand;
I'm old with numbered days, and at night the dreamtime calls me
I don’t want to die a stranger in my land.”

Maureen Clifford ©  07/11

The Scribbly Bark Poet

Wednesday, 18 September 2013

Some more great poetry in Issue3

Some more great poetry in Issue 3 of The Australia Times Poetry Magazine and another great cover from Sandy at
A little Piece of Heart Photography