We are the no soul people
in the not our land
Old stones in Galway
hide my once heart
and a curragh on an Aran beach
waits still to transport me
A day was all I spent there
and didn’t hear the Gaelic at all
I was born and bred in Sydney
closer to Kakadu than Connemarra
We are the ghosts
who gave them trinkets on the sand,
chased them from La Perouse
to oblivion and back again
I’ve been to Uluru
in a bus full of tourists
and call this my country
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