My feet walk on land that is red blood soaked. Black burnt, yellow sun drenched country. Stories from thousands of years. Songs eternally kept on the wind and water. 

I honor lines that have been cut. Poisoned, shot and led to the cliff’s edge. Those who passed to the spirit world before their kin could arrive from the dreaming to continue a physical lineage.

Remembering the stories that remain unwritten and unspoken, returned to the earth and stars that they arrived from. Acknowledging that First Nations people are descendants of those who fought for land, family and identity. Not everyone continued to walk this physical world, many returned to the spirit world. 

Kuramanunya honours them. Kuramanunya. The story is told.