Construct Me - Lisa Bellear PDF Print E-mail

This is your language your culture
This is your naming your ideals
of who I am supposed to
be, represent.

Am I allowed to
mourn.
I am still able to feel the
kangaroo and possum skin
Inside I will
always run free.


I do not understand
this photographers
studio. the dirt has no life, the
trees are dead.

Stand still, there may be
a smell, alightening flash.
Look over here above my
right shoulder. Madam hello,
understand the Kings English,
thank you.


Some day, you may
come to know my name.
And my ‘lations, they are
a big mob.


For our future and our
survival, we must be
remembered.
L.M.B. 6/15/98

The family supports the Aboriginal Medical Service Bob Bellear Diabetes Clinic. Donate by contacting Richard Porritt on (02) 9319 5823