In the Kimberley’s broken gorges, a wondrous ancient land,
A group of friends sally forth, a conundrum in command,
Without the old people present can deep power still stand?
We begin on a wide river, round rocks as big as houses,
Beside pure flowing water, always there to refresh us,
Vivid sky, blood scarps, stunning colours surround us,
Tall paperbarks shade, sticky spinifex entangles us.
Days pass, silver falls appear and embrace us,
Sacred pools secrete art shelters that immerse and inspire us.
Standing stones guard gorge high points – who came before us?
Night falls and camp firelight anchors our souls,
Shining moon bathes our bodies in her ghostly glow,
At dawn, the land’s spirit rises softly to greet us; we feel whole.
– Gib Wettenhall, 2018