The tree that watched

I miss the days when I would be used as a song line and feet walked softly on Country, 

when my roots would drink from the clear, drifting streams. 

I was important, I was seen.

Slowly and slowly over time I’ve watched the natural world change. 

Gone is the vast greenery that surrounded me.

Now I look upon a world filled with misery. 

The more I look the more they appear,

The escarpment starts to disappear.

A tree can be a nation, a home, and sacred line.

My social atomization is being broken down smaller by the day.

I may be an old scar tree now and yes my world has changed but I will continue to stand tall. 

I'm proud of the scars I bear which show the memories I hold and cherish. 

They are proof that I was there.