Published in Overland Issue The 2017 Oodgeroo Noonuccal Poetry Prize · Uncategorized Co-winner: My Ancestors Sachem Parkin-Owens Co-winner and Highest Placed Quandamooka Entry Each word I speak, every poem that speaks to you. The dampened cries of My Ancestors are heard too. Sky blue truths. They speak not of life and death, Rather of hope and survival. Ginda giba nariyuba (You are my young man) My Ancestors skin left wounded and filled with their ochre stories. These wounded stories brimmed my budding stainless mind. So much so they have grown to be my Childs ‘lullaby. Just to keep them alive. Ngari Dege (I am your Ancestor) My Ancestors words fall upon me like dusk upon dawn; Sovereignty and Freedom. With closed eyes I search for the origin of my hidden soul through each line; And through each line I rewrite and retell I realise, each rhyme, every poem I write, isn’t mine. They belong to the sovereign and free. My ancestors. Ginda giba nariyuba (You are my young man) Giba Jagi binji (With fire in your belly) Bujirang Jabur (Don’t be frightened boy) Ngari Dege (I am your Ancestor) Wagari Ngali (Carry me) Gana ngayi (Hear me) Gana nariba jagi (Hear my tribal spirit) Yara Yari ngiyariya bunji (Go tell your Brothers) Yara Yari ngiyariya jadin (Go tell your sisters) (Through your art) Nyinda yara ba (you go then) So here I am A mere man With a piece of paper and a pen in either hand, Hands together, not to pray but to put ink to paper, Retelling 229 more years of lullabies Gana ngayi (Hear me) I write from the heart The source of my ink Each line I write Isn’t written from what I think Rather what is held close to my heart; My Ancestors. Ngari gana nginda (I hear you) Image: Petteri Sulonen Sachem Parkin-Owens Sachem Parkin-Owens is an eighteen-year-old Aboriginal and African-American poet. His Indigenous ties come from Minjerribah (North Stradbroke Island), where his family currently reside and have for multiple generations. He is also an African-American man from Tampa, Florida. Sachem grew up listening to stories from his grandmother, aunties, uncles, mum and dad about experiences they and his ancestors have been through. Sachem sees himself as a vessel for his peoples’ stories, meaning he feels his ancestors speak through his poetry as he writes. More by Sachem Parkin-Owens › Overland is a not-for-profit magazine with a proud history of supporting writers, and publishing ideas and voices often excluded from other places. If you like this piece, or support Overland’s work in general, please subscribe or donate. Related articles & Essays 21 February 202521 February 2025 · The university Closing the noose: a dispatch from the front line of decasualisation Matthew Taft Across the board, universities have responded to legislation aimed at rectifying this already grim situation by halting casual hiring, cutting courses, expanding class sizes, and increasing the workloads of permanent staff. This is an unintended consequence of the legislation, yes, but given the nefarious history of the university, from systemic wage theft to bad-faith bargaining, hardly a surprising one. 19 February 2025 · Disability The devaluing of disability support Áine Kelly-Costello and Jonathan Craig Over the past couple of decades, disabled people in much of the Western world have often sought, or agreed to, more individualised funding schemes in order to gain greater “choice and control” over the support we receive. But the autonomy, dignity and flexibility we were promised seems constantly under threat or out of reach, largely because of the perception that allowing us such “luxuries” is too expensive.
