We came to find the place contained in legendary
tracts, the hidden land of fulsome wealth that we
had sorely lacked, a place to cede the means of
dreaming pleasant dreams.
We found the continent intact with evidence of
everything the schemers claimed except it wasn’t
empty, marked our landing site with sticks and
scratched our names.
We framed the land around without a sign for Crown
or Queen, pretended that their heirs would reign.
We made a pact before we left to not reveal the site,
acted in belief it might restrain the avaricious deeds
our leaders would ignite.
The owners of the land were shy but graciously
extended hands and trusted us to come again to
learn the wonders of their land, to walk among
the spirits of their dead.
Our leaders brutalised the cautious words we said
with acrid accusation, absurdly claimed we lied to
curry fame, denied we ever found the site and
trashed our reputations.
We died before the tempest came. Our spirits
wandered in the night and wilted in the dawn,
we hid within the pile of sticks beside the tree
adorned with words we wrote:
‘Hope & Justice found this Land
and ceded it was owned’
© 2005, I.D. Carswell
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