Daruka. Id visit you as a kid. My two best friends lived out your way. Id go out to you every weekend. Here, my friends and I would play in your creeks, walk through fields of grass, and stand on big granite boulders. I was always frightened though. I was frightened of monsters. Feeling scared, I always looked for snakes, and spiders. Consumed by fear, and worry I never really knew you. Daruka, I come to you now grown. Ive learned your story, how important you are, and see and feel your destruction. You were once home to ceremony. Song and dance echoed through your mountains, Yinarr weaving on creek beds whilst children played, home of flowers, grasses, trees and animals, and camp fires all through the country. Ive learnt that the monsters aren’t the snakes and spiders,  and that the monsters came long ago leaving behind paddocks of destruction. Daruka, I now see you in a different way. Ive grown, I’ve learned, and I’ve walked with you. I see your destruction, but I also see secrets left behind. I visit my country, walking through the grasses now looking for flowers and see rainbows of colours in your fields. I lay in the creek bed, and dig my toes into the sand feeling rested, and safe. I climb the glistening  granite boulders, standing tall, I see the water weave in and out, and grasses holding the sand banks together.