They come out to the community in a big four-wheel drive – towin’
flash campin’ gear – looked like they’d be stayin’ awhile – set up camp.
The historians – they said they were – come out to help us tell our story.

Each word I speak, every poem that speaks to you.
The dampened cries of My Ancestors are heard too.
Sky blue truths.

We came across water
made shore in darkness
woke on sand.

Watch out
We’re coming
Out from the edges, the cracks, from under our bridges.

But one day, a boy appeared.

The shadow people heard a loud cry and so they raced to where the sound came from.