Bora Ring

To the place of the sacred, the silence, Where the men dance their fierce dance, Going round the ring, The sound of the air turns Like a shadow across the grass.

Here, the earth sings, Each blade and stone alive, Like the heart of a dreaming child, A wind blowing heavy with the weight Of memories and years.

A place of beginnings, of silence standing, Where elders begin their songs, Their laughter lifting beneath the stars, In the cradle of the night, the ancient Land remembers.

• Judith Wright