Poetry

Welcome to Country

They purloined your house,
Aboriginal Australian
And feeling guilty allowed
You to stay on in a tiny backroom.

Now that they are fully ensconced
You conduct a welcome to country,
But with all the rooms fully occupied
Will never get the title deeds back
And they will seldom visit you
In your little room.

Who am I to talk,
A white Zimbabwean
Evicted from my tiny room
From where I controlled the house
And fed the household:
Now they are starving
And with the title deeds
Don’t want me back

We are alike you and I
Only our colour, justice
And good fortune
Separate us.

Derek Fenton

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