Come on, old people
walk with me,
tell me what you know
about the sea.
The moonlight guides me
along the puddled path,
as I gaze into the
oceans boundless bath.
I rain cleansed boulder,
a coastal midden,
windswept Banksias,
so much is hidden.
I sense an energy,
I'm taken back in time
to a gathering of people
eating in my mind.
Slowly I walk on,
a presence follows me,
through my feet on the ground,
through my eyes on the sea.
I hear the sound on crashing
waves rolling to the shore,
an uncontrollable craving
to find out mind
*This poem was written at Pebbly Beach Forster, a gathering place with middens scattered along the foreshore. After living in the area for three years, this began my research into local Aboriginal history.