THE KEEPER OF THE STONES

THE KEEPER OF THE STONES  

The blood red moon mimicked the colours of the desert sands.
They too shone blood red in Australia’s red heart
where Uluru stood.
A magnificent monolith
whose colours were constantly changing
from gold to red to deep purple hues
and now with the rain
she was gray,
streaked with black algae and white foam
as rushing waters bathed the dust from her sides.


The keeper of the stones sits on the red earth
beneath the shade offered by the bloodwood.
He is Anangu.
The spirits of his ancestors are here.
Their ancient paintings adorn her.
The paints made from what the Mother provided.
Ochres, calcite, ash and charcoal
mixed with animal fats –
as has been done since the Dreamtime.


The same symbols and paint are used during sacred ceremonies
to paint their bodies
to represent their Tjukurpa ancestors.
For the tourists
he paints Lungkata the blue tongued lizard. 
He paints Kuniya , the woman snake
and Lira, the poison snake
and tjali the honey ant.
His ancestors once painted the same symbols.


Uluru stands,
unchanged, serene, inscrutable
as she has since the Dreamtime.
He is the keeper of the stones.
He is Anangu.





Maureen Clifford ©
The Scribbly Bark Poet