Lost Voices
Lost Voices Who will keep the words when the tribes fade into legend and paintings on the rock face with no voices to name the sable or call the rain, how will the Ancestors sing us the Songlines back to our place? Their wisdom is lost to the scattered Children of the grasslands Spirits caged in the cities dead to the dreaming of the dry desert dunes creeping ever closer under a tearful moon They cannot hear the west wind whispering to itself amongst whitening bones of the Wild ones who had nowhere to run from the relentless Sun Souls are split from the Sacred with who they once wandered through the vast open spaces with their herds The old ways are dying as the waters are drying and the ancient forests cleared no fist strikes the drum to mark the ritual done no pleas to the Thunder God drift on dead rivers the Children are gone the Ancestors are still the west wind has wandered on What are you doing while the Earth is dying have you blocked out the echo in the night from the anguish...