Who are you no. 162 and what right do
I have to offer this gaze.
There is always a story no. 162. How honest
can I be with you, without bringing
tears to the page.
You no. 162 stand dark, tall, deep set
jet black eyes. How I admire your
strength, your tenacity to
survive.
Who are your warrior ancestors, no. 162.
Who are your people.
Your country.
We all have mothers,
at some point
a particular place
your mother
gave birth?
And now
there you
stand in a
photographer's
studio. Alone.
Your gaze defies
the colonisers' as you
are forced to adorn their
clothes of savagery.
I honour your spirit
I honour your ancestors.
You no. 162
have a name and history.
You and I and All
indigenous survivors
are part of that continuum, that
legacy.
No. 162 your
spirit will be
honoured and
named.