POEM- 'THE HANDS'

THE HANDS (40)

He, she,
Travellers from different parts
Stand, hand in hand
Basking in the morning sun
While all around
In the natural ampitheatre
of red rock
Ghosts of the past inhabit
every worn surface
Their dark bodies slipping down the
ledges
And over the smooth stones

Here some rubbings
Where millet was ground
There, a grooved image carved in
rock
Now eroded, almost beyond
recognition

While overhead, in the cerulean sky
Giant pale ball of moon hangs
motionless
Silent witness to these
phantoms
And against this orb
An eagle soars
His wings outstretched
Upswept
Circling in the invisible currents
As he has done for thousands
of years

And on the hillsides
Blue grey Cypresses eke their
existence
Among the hopbush
And gnarled Eucalypt

The hands hold tighter
The pair stand in the morning
sun
And stare at the hands
Hands stencilled on the wall
of the cave
Reaching out from time
immemorial
While around
The Cypresses stand in the sun
Pale ghost of moon hangs
in the cerulean sky
And overhead

An eagle soars.

Mootwingie, NSW, 1987

-———————————————-

POEM- 'THE HANDS'

HAMISH CUMING

SYDNEY, Australia

  • Artist
    Notes
  • Artwork Comments 4

Artist's Description

WRITTEN AT ‘MOOTWINGIE’ STATION, NEAR BROKEN HILL, NEW SOUTH WALES, A LONG TIME AGO.

Artwork Comments

  • Sara Johnson
  • HAMISH CUMING
  • Euan Thorburn
  • HAMISH CUMING
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