Liyan dance

Cave spirit rising

Apprehensive, she talked hesitantly. Her words drew an image of a child sitting on a mother’s shoulder, her picture of the true genealogical source of the maternal trace line, the identity stamp of belonging to country. My question was ‘who can speak for Country’. As we speak, at that moment, she said that we were living in the eternal Dreaming…that her ancestral spirits were listening to each word she spoke. Her eyes studied my face, our eyes from distant past met, liyan danced with trust. Her liyan told her that she could trust me. My spirit dwelt in in-betweenness, my liyan has no declaration to make. My deep well simply oozes with respect …for ‘difference’.

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