George Quade and others

You took Cape York. You stole my hope.
You plundered land from me.
Then blamed me for my ignorance
of what you’d hope you’d be.

In place of tribal trust
and quiet serenity
you missionised
you civilised
with Christianity
and police and grog
and squatters dogs
and your degeneracy.

In the falseness of the day
you hid the lies of night
Black skins / white skins
a timely oversight.

Still you wonder why it is
I feel that I’ve been used
as you rip apart the land I love
a wilderness abused.