And as a little girl she taught me to watch
To open my periphery
And see past what meets the eye
Land shapeshifting in the night
Awakening the protection of spirits, the birthing of stars
See how mountains morph to modern day dreary,
And the Casuarina roots grasp at the sand
Fearful of being unwanted passengers
When the tides of time run back to the horizon
I learned to listen
Far beyond what I could hear
The rumble in my belly dancing
to propelling rhythms of the shark
And observe my heart beat
as unbroken as the sea breeze
Floating buoyantly on every breath I take
I Stood on the cusp of ancient and western
Speaking colonisation
And dreaming in colours of salty watered ancient tongue
and sounds of passing clouds
But in all the beauty I witnessed, hand resting in timeless wrinkles
I sat unknowingly in the lap of history
Her breath the song of time
The link between Dreamtime and tomorrow’s first light
My grandmother was the matriarch of our family. Unapologetically fierce in everything she said and did. Her life was a lesson, every word a message of wisdom, every smile that split through the pain was proof she was stronger than anything or anyone who had ever tried to break her.
She was just a girl when the white man came. Watched trees turn to buildings, waterholes turn to pubs, ceremonial areas become missionaries. She saw her people get lighter as they had babies to the white settlers and saw her humble untouched livelihood become a hub for miners to dig and rape her land.
My grandmother was one of the last of the first peoples untouched by colonisation. She witnessed centuries of change in her lifetime. My grandmother was the link between before and after white settlement. She was a portal to the past.