In Alice Springs it can get that hot
The dogs never stop panting
After a week or more of build up
It might rain

It rained once for two days solid
And in the park on east side
An Aboriginal bloke in ragged clothes
Spent those two days sitting under a tree
Making movements with his arms
As if communicating with nature
He was wet through

Yet he stayed there
Alone in the rain
Minding his business
Not speaking to anyone

The eyes peered through blinds and curtains
From houses along the street
Growing anxious, fearful, insecure
They try to ignore him
But he is there, both days
So conspicuous
In the rain
Not far from the swings
They can't help notice him
On the way back to work and on the way home
In the rainHe sits there
And they are disturbed

Even though they are dry and safe in their comfortable homes
They are fearful
Even though they have hot food on the table
They are squeamish
His freedom, his ease, his being
Comfortable out of doors putting up with the rain
Makes them

Undoing those happy moments in the kitchen
Morning and night
And in the morning again they look out-they hope he is gone
But he's still there
Their enjoyment of breakfast TV
Making them feel guilty
For having a house and money and luxury
They don't want to feel guilty-they worked hard for it

But he's still there
Out of doors in the rain
Quietly suggesting 
That what they worked for
Is not worth
That much 
After all

-Neil Murray

Got hold of this poem from Amit at CFL. He tells me that this was actually written by an Aborigine, Neil Murray.



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