Lost Homes
MICHELLE COUNCIL
I walk about the park below
as it laps around the river,
Frankie, the Moodle is busy,
darting about, hunting blue tongues and bush rats,
pestering the Ibis, sending them to the sky.
While I wonder about the women who walked here
A long time before me.
I live on the land of the Wangal people
who call this shore home.
I think of the women who spent their days
fishing for their families in canoes.
Using fishhooks carved from shells.
Their rite of passage was Malgun,
Forever linking them to the fish.
The women on the water, singing together,
throwing out their lines waiting for the strike
and tug of whiting, dory or snapper.
Hauling them quickly into the boat to char
on the waiting fire.
All the while with their babes balanced on their knees.
Encircling me are the female casuarinas,
with their spiky nuts that litter the ground.
The Wangal women formed a bed from these,
keeping their babies safe from snakes
when working by the shore.
The women and Country working in reciprocity.
Then, one day, strange white men rowed down the river,
their lives changed forever.
The women who fed and nurtured their children
could not protect them from the disease
We settlers brought.
We pushed them out,
destroyed their homes and families.
No longer did the Wangal women’s way of life exist.
Still, every day, in my mind, I see them.
Walking on Wangal Country (Image by Michelle Council)
Based in Sydney, Michelle Council is a passionate writer, painter, and crochet creator. When not crafting words or art, she cherishes time with her family, friends and beloved dog Frankie. Her creative spirit thrives on exploring new ideas and techniques, always seeking to express the beauty of the world around her.
