Thaluun

With thanks to artist/ videographer Shannon Brett.

I fought the thought of leaving her behind
as an unseasoned sun that fell under fire
by the turning of the unbound earth,
power, longevity and a baby’s birth.

Move on, they say.
Leave behind the baby with the name
that means old lady and deep blue sea,
the name given to me.

Gumba Thaluun.

My name is what the earth is to ocean –
earth is named by possession, water by life,
life’s sustainability, yet earth is earth
by the power of water
and in completeness turns around the sun.
My name is the wave held together by nature
that builds romance with heights and depths,
the highs and lows we don’t forget.

Lest we forget.

My name is the grandmother who wept
like the water that was her name,
when she realised she was the same
as the windless morning of her father’s death.
And, now I take her name
because as her I am the same
and cry saltwater old as namesake says.

When I was young, I stood on sandy cliff
and told myself that I belong
to the struggler’s quest.
Grandmother said to me, “you’ll do your best,”
and I will power on.

My namesake calls to me,
my language is known by ear and not by tongue,
my culture still spins around the sun
and will until I’m old and grey,
as I was when I was young,
with my elders’ blood.

I found myself on that cliff that day
when I looked back on all time.
I saw the day the sails came
and what happened next.
I saw the grandmother who was me
mourn her father’s death,
but know she still lives on.

Gumba Thaluun.

Old lady of deep blue sea
that is who you see in me,
and I will not forget.