Is Aboriginal Australian's poetry Islamic?

**Curaezipirid** · 08-05-2006

Elsewhere I have made some assertions about the retention of Islamic teachings by Traditionally Oriented Australian Aboriginal communities into this modern time. It is sadly however come to be that most Australians are alarmingly misinformed about modern Muslim people and our habits, and so few have been ready to accept a Muslim identity. There are reputedly about five thousand Australian Aboriginal Muslims. Yet some among that include those whom initially became Muslim only so as to conspire against persons with a Muslim identity. Yet this has an explaination. Others among us have been herding the persons in our communities whom were in a shirk and making difficulties for many, towards Muslim teaching wherein they are less of a risk to all Humans, and then those whom did not know that this was occuring made wrong assumptions about all Muslims. However, since it is now time to set these records straight, I am here today posting some of the poetry of Aboriginal Australians. The Newspaper these are published in is called the Koori Mail and is 100% Aboriginal owned and published. It contains very standard commentary from every available source about many Aboriginal persons whom have become prominent, from a very local level to an international level. Remember that the overall identifying Aboriginal population of Australia is only around 2-3 %, though perhaps as much as 5% if including every person whom considers them self at foundation an Aborigine. Those whom identify tend only to be whom were being prevented from being classed as Australian citizens because of black skin, until a referendum in 1967 in which the vast majority of Australians voted to change the constitution. My intention in this thread is to present some of the perceptions of Aboriginal Australians for the international Muslim community to observe the retention of our Indigenous form of Islam. But since most Australian Aborigines are not identifying as Muslims as a whole, it is for each Muslim to regard us independently in our identity. These poems for a portion of the mentioned Newspaper that is like a letters to the editor section.

Fighting for Our Land:

They cam for afar to this sacred land
And stole what was ours, with much demand
They tried to destroy everything that we knew
With no remorse, compassion or even review
Their actions were selfish, greedy and cruel
What the didn't realise, is we'd fight for this land too

Our leaders fought for us, they were noble, it's true
They made sure the British saw our point of view
The British used guns, and weapons, brand new
But our 'brave mighty warriors' still plunged on right through
They still haven't realised the things they have done

To all of my people, who just want this as one
They are the intruders on this land
But my people are willing to walk hand in hand
The only way things will ever be right
Is to realise Aboriginal people's traditional rights

Michele Frost, Kurri Kurri, NSW

Writing to You:

I feel the urge to write to you
Yes you, you are the one and you know
Be black, be beautiful, be you
Amidst all the goings on in our Land
I am glad that you, yes, you,
Have taken a stand
Be black, be beautiful, stand tall, don't fall

I am proud of you, for the way you stand
Being a role model within our society
Be black, be beautiful, be you
You are numbered with the many
Who have never abused any
Be black, be beautiful, be you

Malcom Champion, Port Augusta S.A.

Love and Mercy:

Jesus, Love and Mercy are deeper than the ocean
More forgiving that any of our motions
Higher than any mountain
More pure that a water fountain
More mystic that Uluru
They are there for me and you
They are more luminour than the sky
They are there for you and I

Like the sunshine touching people along the beach
The warmth of the love and mercy each person does reach
Some just feel them more clearly as they respond
To this love and mercy from the blue beyond
There before time began on this Earth
When God thought of us before our birth

Jesus, Love and Mercy are more powerful than the oceans
More stronger than our negative emotions
Yes, they are vaster than the sky
They are there for you and I
So I'm larning to love him, this King up high

Mary Price, Brunswick East, VIC

A Song Eternal:

You blow through my hair
Ubiquitous
A song upon my lips

A call eternal
The full moon
An eclipse

You, the contained applause
Of falling leaves
An autumn sunset
A gentle blustering breeze

The row of cotton trees
Naked now their leaves have fallen
Stand like silent warriors
Calling

Your name
A song upon my lips

Bright as a full moon
Mysterious the eclipse

Wrapped in your words
Like a possum skin cloak
Passionate laughter
A magnificent she-oak

You now depart
Though you never go
We beckon you
As the highlands
The snow

The earth is empty
The womb
A shell
You an Angel
Life a spell

These words
Artifacts
Of your leaving
Of our love for you
Now the grieving

You blow through my hair
Ubiquitous
A song upon my lips

Mysterious
The full moon
Eternal the eclipse

this was written for a deceased cousin, teacher and woman warrior, whose name I have removed from the poem in accordance with Traditionally Oriented custom of my own adherence, but in the original authored with the name by Romaine Moreton July 14 2006

Dots and Circles:

dots an circles on a canvas
formations bright and bold
each one tells the story
of a culture wise and old

rock are in a cave
the likes you'll never see
each story is uniqure
while shrouded in mystery

lines in the sand
passing down of the lore
Elders of the tribe
know exactly what they're for

ochre on a face
indication of who you are
do you come from my tribe
or are you from afar

paintings in the gallery
for all the world to see
in droves they come to admire it
but its secret is safe with me

dots and cricles hold the dreaming
of the spirits and the land
lines are there forever
just like the Dreaming

if you are seeking proof
or have a troubled mind
dots and circles provide the truth
that our ancestors left behind

Dillinga, Charters Towers, QLD

Nan:

A woman of spirit
A woman of Soul
A woman so beautiful
She never grows old

Younger and younger every year
she is so beautiful dear
Both inside and out
Like a rose bud sprout

My rock my life
When I am sometimes in strife
Keeps me strong
When the winds are blowin' wrong
She's my life
'Cos she is like my mum
Always there when I am strung

Believed in me
And helped me be free
Who I want to be
Like a bird flying
Head held high
'Cos I was knee-high

Always says 'Don't look in the rearview mirror'
'Cos my Soul will simmer
And sweat and get hot
But she said stop

So now I am looking straight
Face like a plate
But moveable still
'Cos I am not unwell

Thankyou my Nan
I am so proud to be part of your clan

by Shian Barker

Our Planet Earth

As the wind blows gently through the trees and the forest
The birds are chirping as the sun begins to shine
Morning dw slowly evaporates and turns into think fresh air
Creatures great and small arise and start their day

While back in the city, pollution is on its way
For you (who) are unable to smell fresh air
Creatures great and small arise and start their day

While back in the cities pollution is on its way
For you (who) are unable to smell the fresh air or see the blue skies from smog
People go to work by means of transport available to them

Not for the slightest moment or instance do they realise what is happening to our planet Earth or to our bodies
Just stop and think, if we were to put rubbish in its proper place

Plant trees in any unwanted space
It would then be a start in the right direction
For only then there would be no need to wear gas masks for protection

This planet of ours is a beautiful place on land or sea
If we were slowly to destroy it then where would we be?
Imagine not being able to go sight-seeing, camping or experience life out among the wilderness

Just stop and think, if we were to let rubbish spread and become a filthy disease. then all life would evenually cease
Imagine not being able to hear birds singing, watching dophins swimming or koalas
So please, if you love where you live and dwell, how about doing some good to the world, by recycling and do not litter
That way your making sure out planet does not look bitter

You never know, by keeping it clean, someone else might get the drift
If you know what I mean

by D. Beetson

Sorry:

For over 200 years
Kooris have struggled every day
Through the joys and the tears
But we are here to stay

Gubbas came and took our land
And our children too
We must make a stand
That means me and you

Gubbas can by the boat loads
And bought all these laws
Built bridges and their roads
For a good cause

Put our people in a chain
And locked us away
Now we can feel our pain
When we gather and pray

today is not different from then
Every day is a worry
But we will fight to the end
Until Australia can say 'sorry'

Rex Wightman, Boggabilla, NSW

These were all published in the Koori Mail that can be accessed readily for any up to the minute info about the concerns of Aboriginal Australians at www dot koorimail dot com

**Curaezipirid** · 09-27-2006

Alaikumassalam,

This is absurd, but I need to report here that I just bought a newspaper so as to put another Aboriginal poem into this thread. One that is written by a person who is not me. But I found on the page before the poem I chose, an article by a Gamilaroi women who is a researcher into Indigenous history. She writes, (and since it is published one must assume that she is overtly supported since the paper has a reputation for being hard to get material published in) that she believes that it should be necessary for any person who seems any lawful confirmation of Aboriginality to name all ancestors who identified as Aborigines, and all living relatives whom identify as Aborigines.

So therein, by popular demand in the state of New South Wales in which I am born in, I have been firmly ruled out of all considerations of being able to access any legal documentation substantiating my Aboriginality.

Therefore my own poems throughout all Muslim websites should not be considered as Aboriginal Australian, but rather as Muslim Australian.

So in that I shall go ahead and post the poem I found in the news paper.

My Sister, My Friend:

I'd like to write you a love song
For all the years of love
And dedication to our hopes and dreaming

I'd like to tell the world
Of a woman born of royal blood
Living out her days in song and rhyme

But I don't want to disturb your dreaming
You're on the other side of time
Round a bend of the deep river
That is Aboriginal land

It's land that stretches backward
It's land that stretches forth
Beyond the boundaries of memory
Beyond the boundaries of north
Beyond the boundaries of southern sky
Or the rising of the sun
Beyond the misty hue of morning
Of the dusk when day is done

I'd like to celebrate you life
Without mentioning your name
I know that you were strong and brave
You saw who played the game

You lived life on the edge
Pushing shackles
Fighting pain
Sharing an eternity
Aboriginal again

I will miss you in the winter
But touch your spirit in the spring
While you have left us for this season
We know we will meet again

And we don't begrudge your leaving
You had so much to give
You packed eons in your lifetime
And you knew just how to live

But I will always think of you when I think of possum skins and photographers
I will celebrate you life with the fair skinned and dusky mob
I will remember we can always find our way home if we are lost
I will remember that we are undefeated even when we think that we are not

Our Spirit indominable ever returning
To the dust of our land
Will rise up as eagles
Calling every last lost Soul home
'Til as people of the Dreaming
We are one blood, in meaning

(that is by Sharon Livermore of Kempsey NSW)

**Curaezipirid** · 11-10-2006

Originally Posted by F.Y.

Oh sis, I remembered the Aboriginal word used for God "Atnatu" (translates as someone who doesnt eat, sleep, drink, have kids, etc all the stuff we believe about Allah)- but I am unaware whether this word is used by a particular tribe or tribes within a particualr geographical location within Oz.

Peace

I learned a word for God from Central Australia today, from right in the Central Desert region:

Wapirra

It seems so odd for a word for God/Allah to begin with a "w" doesn't it?

But then the language has plenty of "w" words.

Human=Warlpiri or Warlbiri (any p is also a b)

Earth=Walya

Dreamtime=Jurrulpa

remembering the the English Dreamtime is a sort of tricky translation

Dreamtime=the state of mind entered in the place and at the time of Prayer

It sort of means Prayer but more like Prayer-place-time.

So when all these words are in the same context then Wapirra as a name for God makes total sense as a defining word of who you are with in mind during any Dreamtime experience. Yet it is also a word being used within a context in which it is comprehended always that Human use of language can not define the totality of who and what God is. Put all that together and the "w" makes sense.

I was reading these words in a book about a senior elder Warlbiri who passed away last year the day after receiving a hundredth birthday letter from the Queen. He was a very important figure in the Yuendumu Baptist Church.

I love being an Aborigine, and I love being because I love my people; and we all love being because we love the Earth and know that Allah loves us because we love Earth, and that is about being an Aborigine. That is what being an Aborigine means. Whenever I re-connect with my tradition I remember what I love better and why.

(The English dictionary says aborigine=indigenous person, but Aborigine=indigenous person of Australia. I wonder why we never got any other name? Indigenous=native person plant or animal to a specific region.)

Aboriginal language poetry is much more repetitive then most English poetry.

waram