The Constitution is planting roots in the ground,
Shaping the weather for political realms

Millenniums have changed the keys to the gate
First Nation Australians now have to negate,

The Long Walk Home or the Freedom Ride
At one stage in Our Lifetimes we ran just to hide

A Death in Custody or, Taking Them Away
Locked behind bars or in a mission to pray;

Thousands were Traditional, and genuine to Lore
Customs and ceremony was stronger before

Thousands were born with a caramel shine
Babies from arms, when being black was a crime

Thousands danced steps to the songs of sorrow
In blessings of the spirits they sing today and tomorrow

Stand tall for our freedom our fight to survive
40 000 years is a “Legacy of Life”;

The law I suppose
The Constitutional Rose

With sharp pointy thorns
Through which history has grown

Each leaf that is seen
With its dull shades of green

Held strong to the stem
By Fabricating men

It’s a law that’s in writing; a sanction out of date
For 217 years First Nations await,

The turn of this Justice that has cut us in two
Because lives became broken when we first met you…

Zelda explains: "The word 'fabricating' needs a capital letter as it is used as a noun to label the action of white Australians to make up stuff in order to gain our land."

Thank you Zelda for sending me your poem!