In five hundred languages
Ancestors
Dancing dreamtime song-lines
Taught wisdom
Millenniums before folk in
Powdered wigs
Sent men across seven seas
To plunder, rape, and murder
For a King
Claiming fauna, flora, soil
Enslaving all as labour.
1967
Marked its end?
Yesterday
In the lived experience
Of wary warriors
Characters imagined
In television studios
Knowing hatred is learnt
In burnt cork antics
Look in the mirror
And see your act
Is not the colour of
entertainment
And no excuse
Of ignorance
Will soothe the wounds
Caused to people
Of ancient grace
Ill from your cold lessons of bigotry
It was in the news months ago. Something about Netflix. I cannot fix it because my words are insufficient but we can.
Inshore Cassandra 