I was born by the waters of the mighty Fly River,
Raised through sago harvested from its banks,
And the meat of barramundi and crocodiles from its depths,
Or the deer and the cassowary bountiful by its shores.
Now the spirits of the river must be angry,
Because it gives us less food each new season,
And the floods that once blessed our small farmlands,
Now flow not with life but with poison.
I dream of rowing with my children on a green river,
Where mother nature’s sustenance is still theirs,
And the fun life I once had by the waters,
Is a a treasure they can leave with my heirs.
- The Mighty Fly River (travellingartist.wordpress.com)
- Dug-out 1 (travellingartist.wordpress.com)
- Dugout 2