Revelations of Relevance

I love Australia, and it was another beautiful evening, as the large orange ball continued its slow descent behind the mountains in the distance, the darkness began to creep in and defeat the light.

People were forming a queue. ‘G’day mate! welcome to Eternity,’ said a large muscular man with platinum metallic hair, shoulder length, he wore golden chest armour. His hair shone brilliantly in the twilight. He had biceps as big as my thighs and his voice was deep and powerful.

‘Stand in the queue over there mate.’ He gestured, with ropes of cabled muscle clearly visible in his mighty arms, I instantly moved over and followed his order, because the consequences of not doing so were too scary to contemplate.

I hoped Sandy was inside, I recalled her text message, ‘near the bar,’ and I presumed I’d be able to actually find the bar when I got into the club?

I saw a large sign at the door with the words ‘Eternity presents Revelations of Relevance.’ I thought that was weird and then comforted myself with the thought that it had to be some band or DJ that would entertain us long into the early hours of the morning.

I hate navigating new nightclubs. It was Sandy who wanted to see this new club. Her friends had been raving about it. I wanted to go to Pandora’s Box, like we did most Friday nights, a party place where we knew everyone.

I noticed the bouncers were into the ‘Roman Centurion look.’ Helmets and breast plates, it was like we had all time travelled back in time. All had centurion helmets except for the platinum haired guy. With hair like his, it was no good hiding it under a helmet. People probably came to Eternity just to see his hair. It was mesmerising, but you would have to be a brave man to be caught staring at it.

One of the ‘centurions’ came up to the platinum haired one and whispered something in his ear.

I looked at both of the men, both were sporting tattoos on their muscular forearms with the word ‘GUARDIAN’ in an old English style font.

‘GUARDIAN?’ I saw some other ‘centurions’ and they all had that same word ‘GUARDIAN’ tattooed on their forearms.

The bouncers were men not to be trifled with, they were all at least seven feet tall. Each probably weighed about four hundred pounds, given their musculature.

Platinum haired guy was in charge, he was directing the others, and I counted at least thirty of these gargantuan hulks.

Wow! I had never been to a nightclub with so many bouncers. I thought that there had to be some major security risk, given the size and number of these ‘guardians.’

I looked at the people up ahead in the queue and behind me in the queue. It was only then that I realised the people in the queue were not like regular clubbing folk; up ahead there was an elderly lady about eighty years old, and behind her some children, then a plump lady, and a skinny teenager with a skateboard under his arm, behind the plump lady. Why would they allow these people in?

I looked behind me in the queue, there were various people at different stages of life, young, old, middle aged. Different shapes and sizes from all walks of life and a broad spectrum of society.

What kind of club was this? This looked like a queue for entry into a ‘regular folks’ country club, not an exclusive night club or rave party.

The guy directly behind me was an Aboriginal fellow and he didn’t look well, he looked weak, like he was going to faint. He was sweating profusely. Perhaps he was sick? Why didn’t these people just stay home if they are sick? He was going to infect us all!

A young man in the queue ahead of me moved out of the queue and the ‘Guardians’ were quick to swoop on him.

He protested but was dragged away, he was powerless against them. It then dawned on me that once you had been sent to the queue, it was a bad mistake to leave the queue.

That was probably why the Aboriginal guy behind me was looking faint, he must have known that leaving the queue came with a harsh penalty. He probably thought he would rather suffer in silence.

I looked at him, and he really wasn’t looking good, he started to fall forwards, his face was heading for the ground. It was like it was all happening in slow motion, I caught him, and in so doing, I broke rank from the queue. I didn’t care anymore, the guy needed medical attention.

‘Hey mate! Hello, excuse me! Yo! Guardians, this guy is not well.’

The reaction was swift.

‘Get back in the queue or suffer the penalty!’ Platinum hair guy was glaring at me and his voice sounded like thunder, this was no ordinary man. His eyes were like liquid mercury. The pupils of his eyes were flames. I hadn’t noticed his eyes before.

‘I can’t get back in the queue, this guy needs help.’

‘Do you dare speak back to me? You will suffer the consequences!’

Two other guardians appeared in a flash just as I was busy laying the Aboriginal guy on the ground. Each of them took hold of one of my arms with vice-like grips. I was paralysed in fear and pain. One other guardian scooped the Aboriginal man up with one arm, and effortlessly carried him away.

I tried to call out in pain, but no sound came out of my mouth, I must have looked like an idiot standing there with my mouth open, so I closed it and internalised my suffering. People in the queue looked at their feet, not at me being escorted away.

A booming voice informed me of my future. It was the platinum haired guardian, with the blazing liquid mercury eyes.

‘I told you not to leave the judgement queue, you are now no longer to be judged, you are now selected.’ I didn’t know what any of that meant, but it was probably not good.

Platinum hair looked straight at me with flaming eyes that stared right through me. Then he looked at each of the guardians either side of me.

‘Take him to the white tent.’

‘Wait, I was just trying to help….’

‘Silence!’ boomed a thunderous roar.

My heart was racing and my legs were shaking, I saw the white tent up ahead, they marched me toward it. Lifting me off the ground, with ease along the way.

We entered the tent, and the instructions were immediate.

‘Take a seat and await your fate.’ Said one of the guardians.

The tent had a marble white floor and in the middle was a white chair that looked to be made of pearl with a golden frame, in an antique style. It was the only place to sit, so I sat down.

Sandy! I had forgotten about Sandy. I had to somehow get a message to her. I rummaged around in my pockets but my phone wasn’t there. I must have left it in the car.

What did he mean by ‘await my fate?’ I was only trying to help the guy behind me. It all felt a little ridiculous but what could I do? I was powerless against these huge guardians. This nightclub was really weird, and we would never come here again. I don’t care how many people say it is the best party ever.

Then a man who looked like a monk in a white hooded robe walked forward with his head down.

When he looked up, I could see it was the Aboriginal man from the queue.

He spoke to me in a broad Australian accent.

‘I was your tester. Each queue has a tester. Mate you need to listen to what life was like for me, for my people. You and many like you, did nothing. The kindness and bravery you displayed in the queue, you never displayed in your life. This poem communicates best what I would like to tell you. If you understand this, you will enter Eternity, if you don’t, Eternity will be closed to you, and darkness will be your existence, choose the light.’

‘What are you talking about? Choose the light? I’m just trying to get into the nightclub, my friend Sandy is waiting inside there for me.’

He held his hand up.

‘Silence mate! Sandy can wait, Sandy’s presence in Eternity will depend on your reflections on what I have to say. Something as simple as a visit to a shopping mall can have profound meaning. I will know from your reaction whether or not you understand what you hear. Are you listening?’

‘Yes mate, yes I’m listening.’

He reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a scroll. He unrolled the scroll and he cleared his throat. He began to speak sagacious words.

‘Haughty faces filled with hate, and dare I say, loathing,

Arrogance apparent, as they stare at our clothing.

They don’t look like us, they are a different folk,

Their women are ‘sheilas,’ and a man is a ‘bloke.’

Their children receive all they ask or desire,

Our children ask only, for warmth from a fire.

They stroll through the mall, scoffing food as they buy,

They look down upon me, the ‘smelly black’ guy.

Would it be the case, that off the land, we were to live,

My advice they would seek and my advice I would give.

But we’re in their world, and we follow their ways,

Learn our culture they say, all your years, months and days.

They love their system, economy and technology,

We love our land, creatures and ecology.

My brain, my body, is not for the life that they bring,

We are different, have other customs, and songs that we sing.

At best we are frowned upon, from condescending heights,

At worst, invisible, to those in gym gear and tights.

Content with themselves, their self-fulfilled existence,

Our mere presence seems an unwanted persistence.

They don’t know my people, and they really don’t care,

My culture is ‘dark,’ like my skin and my hair,

What of equality? And being united in life?

I wish it were so, while awaiting my wife.

She had to shop, so I sit and wait on this bench,

The fair folks in the mall, circumnavigate my stench.

To them we are putrid, we’re from the past like a scar,

Inhabiting the same land, yet apart we are, so very far.

You have to die a little to live a little, that’s what they say,

As they kill off my culture, just a little, each day.

When is our turn? When can we show what we know?

When does our knowledge, our customs and relevance grow?

My wife is approaching, she has bought what we need,

Not what we want, she bought what we need,

We don’t have money, for desire and greed.

The fair folk disperse, and now it’s me she can see,

I want to leave here right now, and go home to be me,

Our home by the river, our house by the tree.

Our modest house was given, amidst photos and fuss.

Politicians and the media all arrived by bus.

We live simply, on the bottom rung of their society,

Drunk in their system, their system of our sobriety.

We get home to childish eagerness and playful hope,

Our children too young, to understand the scope.

I like it here, amongst my folk whom I lead,

I’m respected, no computer, or having to read.

In their system, my knowledge is silenced each day,

No more leading without reading, that’s what they say.

But knowledge you see, is not only words,

What of survival and flowers and berries and birds?

It too is knowledge, the land, the creatures and herds.

They say it’s not knowledge, unless written in words.

We sit outside, warming ourselves with a fire,

It’s against regulation, invoking neighbourly ire.

But we’ve done this forever, on this very land,

They say, it’s not legal, that fires are banned.

We are penalised, fined for doing what we’ve done,

But money we don’t have, our balance is none,

It’s prison for me, yes prison they say,

Prison for you, or your fine you must pay.

These aren’t my laws, and adhere, I cannot,

Their record of me, now has a stain and a blot.

Do this, they say, but that you dare not,

I’m constrained and detained, that is my lot.

The media arrive, to garner more views,

A celebrity now, I’m all over the news.

I speak of our culture, I tell of our ways,

They pretend to listen, for a couple of days.

Then they forget, and the news cycle moves on,

To the shadows I retreat, from the spotlight, I’m gone.’

He rolled up the scroll and looked at me with sadness in his eyes.

‘That is the story of a trip to the mall, and the life we endure.’ He said.

I realised that this place was not an entry to a nightclub. It suddenly dawned on me, Sandy and I had been a to a nightclub and I had an accident on the way home, this was not earthly life, this was another dimension.

‘Mate I am so sorry, I never realised, I was focused on me and my life, nothing and nobody else mattered, can I hug you please mate, please forgive me for my selfishness.

I extended my arms to the elderly Aboriginal man, and hugged him, as tears streamed down my face all I could say was sorry. Sorry that in life I had been uncaring and selfish.

I realised these were people we should have cared for and respected, and held in high regard for their knowledge and ancient culture. But instead, we ripped their culture away and walked all over them they were, silenced and forgotten.

Aboriginals treated like they were a tumour that needed to be hidden or removed.

Reflection is 20/20 vision. We have perfect sight in retrospect. When we reflect, our folly is laid bare, like a naked, festering sore. Uncovered and exposed in the disgusting oozing of bodily fluids, as the ulcerated lesion, is further adulterated by our selfishness.

The guardian with the platinum hair walked up to me and spoke with a voice like many waterfalls thundering.

‘You have shown wisdom, and you have seen what most fail to see, even when they stand in the queue of judgement. Many fail the test of their testers. You have overcome, and you have had a revelation of relevance. Your care for your fellow man, although late, has granted you entry to Eternity. Sandy will be waiting for you, let’s go find her.’