Poem
Betel
nut mesh in his mouth, jaw grinding it skillfully
Bush
knife on his right hand, clearing the bush track
His
grandchildren followed
To
his right side and to his left
Spewing
the mesh betel nut stuff from his mouth
Into
the air like thin smoke from his smoking pipe
Spirits
of the jungle, spirits of our ancestors
I
bring before you my grandchildren
Your
great grandchildren
Bestow
upon them your blessings
Strength,
courage and wisdom
Protect
them against the wiles of the evil forces
Never
ask a question about the jungle
Admire
nothing that you see, touch or taste
Evil
spirits are watching every where
And
everything you do, do it as you own it
His
mouth now empty from the spillage
As
the sun sets, he set a fire alight
He
burns rubbish made by his grandchildren
Wiping
the ground with green twigs
Calling
the spirit of all his grandchildren by name
Least
they be left behind and bond by evil forces
Time
to go home! Time to go home!
Spirit
of the jungle,! Spirits of our ancestors!
Release
the soul of your great grandchildren
Their
chores for the day is over
We
are going home to rest.
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