The great breath shudders,
Coolamuns are drained,
Billabongs go walkabout,
moons since it rained.
Stone man gathers
for corroboree,
chants harsh word-shapes
to narrow melody.
Parrot-feather images
of blood and sweat,
weave their anti-ritual
which the whites forget.
Bull-roarer calls them,
Warriors thirsty-lipped
dancing fire-enchanted
through the eucalypt.
Serve a timeless priesthood
final mystery,
making magic rainstorms
by corroboree.
(Mary Finnin)
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Based on Topics: Mystery PoemsBased on Keywords: eucalypt, corroboree, billabongs, rainstorms, walkabout, bull-roarer