Ali Cobby Eckermann

a whisper arrives. two thousand. two thousand or more. did you hear it? that bomb. the torture of red sand turning green the anguish of earth turned to glass did you hear it? two thousand. two thousand or more yams cremated inside the earth. poison trapped in glass like a museum. did you hear it? two thousand. two thousand or more tears we cried for our Land for the fear you gave us, for the sickness and the dying two thousand years of memory here two thousand. two thousand or more peaceful place this place. happy place till you come with your bombs you stole our happiness with your poison ways you stole our stories two thousand. two thousand or more our people gone missing. did you hear it? where’s my grandfather? you seen him? where’s my daughter? you seen her? Mummy! you seen my mum? Dad! two thousand. two thousand or more times I asked for truth. do you know where they are? two thousand. two thousand or more trees dead with arms to the sky. all the birds missing. no birdsong here just stillness. like a funeral. two thousand or more a whisper arrives. did you hear it? two thousand. two thousand or more it sounds like glass. our hearts breaking. but we are stronger than that we always rise us mob. two thousand. two thousand or more you can’t break us. we not glass. we are people! two thousand. two thousand or more our Spirit comes together. we make a heart did you see it? in the fragments. it’s there in the glass two thousand. two thousand or more our hearts grow as we mourn for our Land it’s part of us. we love it. poisoned and all

despite the cost a new gaol has been built it seems the incarceration rates are trebling I only came here in the role of a Deaths In Custody inspector all the cells are stark and spotless blank screens watch from the corner the offices have the highest technology the faces of the staff still look the same when I walk down this wing and peer into this filthy room the door closes behind me the feeling in my heart is changing from a proud strength of duty to fear all the stories I have ever heard stand silent in the space beside me — a coil of rope is being pushed under the door of this cell