This poem came to me as I sat at the computer, with a TV program talking about Tasmania and aboriginal people. A terrible tragedy. The poem begins with thoughts about what was happening outside, and how it connected with me, inside. 

Then the words from the television hit me and the poem switched around, but then the galahs helped me to find an end.

 

Aboriginal justice

 

Sunshine streams in through the window

birdsong and the roar of a car

are there with me

tinkling wind chime

and water’s reflection

both catch my attention

and take me away

from TV’s sad story.

 

People and government being bad

in the name of doing good

all those years ago –

I’m left with a bad taste in my mind

and a hole in my gut

where my compassion

has leaked out, uselessly

too late, too bloody late.

 

The raucous cries of the flocking galahs

take my attention back outside

where Nature’s laws

are much easier to understand.

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