, , , , , ,


In hardship and privation her life spent,
But now respite in these much greener lands.
Far from the treeless plains and desert sands,
Down by the Murray, pitched, a humble tent,
And by it her slight figure proud – unbent.
A vision from a bygone time she stands
With full length skirt, high collar and gloved hands.
So lives the aged comforter content.

Kabbarli – grandmother, that was the name
The people from the distant deserts gave
To her: a friend, a confidant, a slave.
She nursed the sick, the infirm, and the lame.
Perhaps no saint, though selfless, strong and brave.
Her life’s work – remnants of a race to save.