Mootwingee

Wednesday, August 7, 2002 - 10:00

Among the ancient rocks I pace,
Scattered through the friendly
Stringybarks, and gaping waterhole,
Which feeds the parched red clay.

And gazing on antipodean stone,
I shield my eyes from glaring
Winter, solstice sun.

Then in a flash I am transformed,
As figures leap to life
From paste rubbed hands,
Primaeval man made dance.

Artist struck,
Connection made,
Timeless then,
Forever changed.
And through these rocks
I'm now become as one.

BY CHRIS JOHNSON

From Green Left Weekly, August 7, 2002.

Visit the Green Left Weekly home page.

From GLW issue 503

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In these days of growing media concentration, Green Left Weekly is a proudly independent voice committed to human and civil rights, global peace and environmental sustainability, democracy and equality. By printing the news and ideas the mainstream media won't, Green Left Weekly exposes the lies and distortions of the power brokers and helps us to better understand the world around us.

Green Left Weekly, launched in 1990 by progressive activists to present the views excluded by the big business media, is now Australia's leading source of local, national and international news, analysis, and discussion and debate to strengthen the anti-capitalist movements.