I feel like there's a real flowering of Indigenous Australian (or First Nation) literature at the moment (that has been emerging over the past 20 years or so). In novels and short stories there's the likes of Kim Scott and Alexis Wright and Melissa Lucashenko winning the Miles Franklin Award and this year's prize sees Tony Birch and Tara June Winch both on the shortlist. In poetry I've been reading terrific work recently from Alison Whittaker, who has edited this book and Charmaine Papertalk Green, who collaborated with John Kinsella on the eye-opening False Claims of Colonial Thieves.
This collection has a title that imagines this movement as an inexorable force that is sweeping across the country, something that is confirmed by the mention of power in the subtitle as well (and that resonates with my recent reading of Victor Steffensen's non-fiction book about indigenous fire management, Fire Country). Right from its title and its vibrant cover this is a book that is coming at you and is not waiting for your permission to speak.
The collection combines the poems with essays from the likes of Bruce Pascoe and Ali Cobby Eckermann, who introduce thematic sections that are organised under a quote from one of the poems in that section (such as 'Ancestor, you are exploding the wheelie bin' or 'I say rage and dreaming'). This works very well and keeps you on your toes as you switch between the essays and the poems.
The poems themselves are incredibly diverse and also include works that were originally released as songs (such as 'Took the Children Away' by Archie Roach and 'Behind Enemy Lines' by Provocalz and Ancestress). They range over many decades, as highlighted by the juxtaposition in the final section of two poems addressed to the indigenous rights activist Denis Walker, one of them, 'Son of Mine,' written by his mother Oodgeroo Noonuccal in 1986 and the other, 'Grandfather of Mine,' written by his granddaughter Elizabeth Walker in 2018.
Many of the poems highlight indigenous language and mix it in with English, something that in itself is an assertion of power, a refusal to be subjugated to the language of the coloniser even as the writers show great mastery of that language. Good examples of this are 'Bilya Kep' by Deborah Doorlak L. Moody, 'Yilaalu-Bu-Gadi (Once Upon a Time in the Bay of Gadi)' by Lorna Munro and 'Ngayrayagal Didjurigur (Soon Enough)' by Joel Davidson. Conversely, other poets such as Mojo Ruiz de Luzuriaga ('Native Tongue') lament their inability to speak the language of their ancestors.
There are, of course, a lot of poems that focus on the injustices faced by Indigenous Australians over the centuries of colonisation, poems that seethe with anger and that are suffused with despair, but there is also a lot of humour and especially a lot of pride, whether it's Baker Boy telling us we "are now witnessing the power!" or Laniyuk writing a tribute to Indigenous Matriarchs such as Barangaroo, Truganini and her own ancestors and commenting that "their strength [is] emblazoned in [her] DNA."