The sacred grounds of Living Water at risk

The shadow and light shimmering reflection of the bush

on the river arrests my eyes, gleaning with the sun

like a halo shining against the light blue sky, flashing

a mirage of paradise from the past,

sculpted carvings of half-exposed roots suddenly appear

in my sight, hanging by the thread. I feel unsettled

as I step on dry, parched land trying to read a Country

deprived of living water.

Mining tail run-offs muddy crystal-clear springs,
and stolen waters to feed food crops have seized the

twinkle and sparkle of the dancing lake nymphs

for their dishonoured habitation

has left them breathless, their frolicking fish friends

have been found life-less floating on the river

warning of an omen of dark days ahead.

The light of consciousness beckons to return to Earth now

to heal our wounded Mother, for her children must unite

to throw asunder the poison chalice of power and greed

and uphold the sanctity of the grounds of being.

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