String symphony
It was the red string
held them all together
the constant of the murru
red string stood in
for shoelaces
in the one pair of
shoes on your great-great-grandfather’s
feet purchasing a bush block out
where everybody
scoffed red strings
are on our bibs turned
in from bias binding
run up by our
Nanna there we throw our bottles
on the floor for
fun smashing living in the garage
who was the first baby
born inside that house?
Dad would do your hair
when Mum went off
to get another
baby string, ribbon it was
all
the same to him one plait
tight enough to give
you Chinaman’s eye
the other loose as a
shetland’s tail
It was all the same to
him it was the red string
pulling
held us all together
on the same path same people
pull it home to centre
wrap it how you might.
Murru = journey/path Wiradjuri NSW
So lucidity vivid Kerri..a variation on String Theory.
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