October 6, 2003
|
1.
We all remain uneasy about a stain on our historic corridors that will not be washed away, that will not be washed clean. Is it possible that my Irish forebears preferred genocide? It's a gruff conversation, in every heartbreaking and forthright way. Regurgitate our standard line, attack our own ellipses and distortions, say we are fractious and ill-tempered? Like stolen generations the Aborigines are not going to wither away, become one with the mountain or the flowers on the plain. My Irish forebears peacefully developed, enveloped an egalitarian society in a sparsely populated wilderness. Yet collective memory struggles against forgetting. So many murdered, massacred, on that long frontier, a saga of dispossession. Let's strike back. We are not the murderers. Massacres were far rarer than we think. Anonymous black people (anonymous to whom?) were not numerically deposited. The government wasn't always at their children's throats. Understanding, reconciliation, hanging on to the mercy of statistics. 2. What kind of negotiations can there be when large numbers of the "well-armed" do battle with large numbers of the "ill-equipped?" 3. I went to purchase a little plot of land near Eden, just inland from Two-fold Bay. My land overlooks Blackfellas Point, an Aboriginal campsite. In the 1840's everyone worked together, the first white settlers had a mountain and a main street named after them. But what if you gave birth to a black daughter? What if your Aboriginal friend became part of a midnight burial? What is eased from history when a shared humanity is uncomfortable, doesn't fit in with the prevailing ethos? My Eden frontier was bloody; the settlers were perpetrators. 4. Change may be painfully, pitably slow. An alternative history may be needed. A calm force, a depth of vision can occur. Reconciliation, No, redemption, is what is being played-out. I long to celebrate my own history. I have a grand desire to claim my blackness. · · · · · ·
Resources Poetry on Swans R. Paul Craig is an Adjunct Professor of Philosophy at San Jacinto College in Houston, Texas. Craig's poetry has been published in small journals or on-line journals, such as The 2River View and Red River Review. He lives in Friendswood, Texas, with his wife and two children. Do you wish to share your opinion? We invite your comments. E-mail the Editor. Please include your full name, address and phone number. If we publish your opinion we will only include your name, city, state, and country. Please, feel free to insert a link to this poem on your Web site or to disseminate its URL on your favorite lists, quoting the first paragraph or providing a summary. However, please DO NOT steal, scavenge or repost this work without the expressed written authorization of Swans. This material is copyrighted, © R. Paul Craig 2003. All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher. |
This Week's Internal Links
The Green Folks - by Michael W. Stowell
It's The Arnold Show - by Scott Orlovsky
Thank You, Peter Camejo: Summary of his Platform - by Gilles d'Aymery
Vision In 2004 - by Eli Beckerman
Dumb As Dirt - by Phil Rockstroh
Learning From Strangers - by Kim R. Stafford
Doubt And Essential Lies - by Richard Macintosh
Super Deluxe Rip-Offs By The Most Distinguished - by Philip Greenspan
What The U.S. Wants From China - by Manuel García, Jr.
He Lied - by Deck Deckert
"Prescription Pot" - Book Review by Jan Baughman
One Voice Strong - Poem by Vanessa Raney