Traces by Meg Futo

Footsteps twist underneath me

I reach out to touch a tree

I can feel the traces of those who were there

In the ground and in the air

In every single place on earth

There's the memory of someone else

You can feel it all around

But it's not until you know the story

That the weight in the air feels real

And suddenly you can see

The presence of those who used to be

I watched them in the rubber trees 

Through blood and sweat and tears

They found a way

But I can still sense their fears

We have a way of treating them like gods

If we even care to remember

But they are far from that

The dust at Nui Dat

Swirls with stories 

Of ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances

They had blood on their hands too

But they were only 19

And they deserve to be seen

The blood of our ancestors, and of others’ ancestors,

Lies in this country

And there are footprints everywhere you step

If only you stop to notice them