ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

Maureen I have been thinking for some time about sending this to you for publication in your magazine, but I see by today's edition I am now too late. Congratulations on the magazine you are doing a wonderful job for poets and poetry.

NOOKANBAH THE WARRIOR

I had ridden across the mountains, through the fertile plain,
into that part of the country that sees more dust than rain,
but the morning I awoke to find my horses gone,
was when I knew there was little hope that I could carry on.
The heat would surely kill me; the crows would have my bones,
and I would be just another to die out there alone.

‘Twas Nookanbah the warrior found me before I died,
Nookanbah the warrior who knelt down by my side,
Nookanbah the warrior who was fleeing for his life,
Nookanbah the warrior who loved an elder’s wife.

Somehow we struggled on together, white hand held in black,
across the searing desert sand along an ancient track
until at last we arrived at a secret, sacred cave,
and as I collapsed inside, I saw that I was saved,
for there was a pool of water, fresh and cool and clean,
that precious pool of water which for days in dreams I’d seen.

‘Twas Nookanbah the warrior who went and hunted game,
Nookanbah the warrior who shared with me the same,
Nookanbah the warrior who fed and cared for me,
Nookanbah the warrior who knew what his fate must be.

For weeks we lived together, safe from thirst and heat,
learning from each other, our friendship almost complete,
till the day I saw a cloud come drifting across his eyes
and soon six painted tribesmen were taunting him with their cries.
They had come to take him back to face the elder’s law,
and Nookanbah knew, within his heart, he would be no more.

‘Twas Nookanbah the warrior with his waddy and his spear,
Nookanbah the warrior who defied them without fear,
Nookanbah the warrior who chose to fight on the sand,
than be Nookanbah the warrior - dead at the elder’s hand.

As they all surrounded him and so commenced the fight,
I cowered like a dog in the cave as dark as night.
I marvelled at the strength of this man who fought alone,
prouder and much braver than any man I’d ever known.
I watched as valiant Nookanbah slew one, then two, then three,
till a cruelly thrusted spear brought him finally to one knee.

‘Twas I who knelt beside him and heard his tortured cries,
‘twas I who saw the plaintive stare within my saviour’s eyes,
and it was I who understood what he asked of me -
I who used the broken spear to end his agony.

Then I took him and I laid him in an unmarked grave,
that I dug from the desert sands beside that sacred cave
and where he lies at rest, no stranger shall ever see -
that’s a secret better kept between Nookanbah and me.
Though if in some future time his warrior’s bones are found,
he shall be recorded as just another, black man in the ground.

Vic Jefferies

Thanks Vic , happy you like what I am doing .You're never to late - I will take it if I may and use it in a future edition

It's a great story and well told - Is it based on truth? I know there is a town called Nookanbah and an aboriginal massacre took place there in the 1880' s as whiteys wanted to take the land to set up a sheep property. Any Aboriginals that weren't massacred were captured and used on the property as slave labour. So perhaps an element of truth in your poem or you have discovered more info perhaps Either way I like it.

Cheers

Maureen

Thank you for the comments Maureen. This is a poem I wrote some years ago and please feel free to use it in the magazine. I am just sorry I missed this month as it would have probably been appropriate considering the magazine's theme this edition.

It is loosely based upon a story told to me many years ago when I worked in the Territory.

I enjoyed the story you tell Vic.

Heather

Thanks Vic - It is a shame you missed that fortnights edition as it would have suited exceedingly well but never mind I will work it into another issue for you and thank you for allowing me to share it.

Thank you Maureen and Heather.

Great yarn Vic ...

Thank you Manfred.

Vic ... that's a little humdinger. You had me from the start and then I went back and read it again.
Wazza

Good On You Wazza! To have your poem read twice is a great compliment!