Under the Southern Cross

Under the Southern Cross

My country has four national flags.

Three of them are now official, though only one

is THE Australian flag. It's the one I like least.

Mind you, it does have all the stars

of the Southern Cross – our own

constellation, which I love to see 

travelling gradually across the year 

through the vast, beloved night sky.

But in the top corner the Union Jack

declares we belong to England –

that colonist supreme, that conqueror,

which began our nation (on top of the pre-existing) 

by trampling on justice and the human rights

of convicts and 'natives' both.

Though now we're part of a Commonwealth 

not a fiefdom, the Queen is still our figurehead

Head of State, with real power when it comes 

right down to it: dismissing our elected 

Government (and Gough) in uproar in 1975.

We like you again now, Liz; and William and Harry 

and their lovely wives, and the children. And we're 

a lazy lot. Sooner the beach or the barbie 

than fighting to be a Republic. But give it time.

There's also the Aboriginal flag, created in 1971.

Beautiful! Black skin of the people, 

the good red earth of our desert heart, 

and the immense, golden sun. It's a work of art 

by Harold Thomas, Luritja man. It flew,

radiant and proud, when the First People

gathered to demand, at last, justice and

their human rights – and every time since.
It was first made official in 1995.

The Torres Strait Islands flag depicts

the Islanders surrounded by land and sea. 

Many now live on the mainland. Faith Bandler

of gentle voice and strong spirit, who fought 

in my own lifetime for justice and human rights, 

lived where I live now, and is remembered.

But my flag, in my heart, is white on blue,

symbol of the Eureka Stockade, where its prototype 

was first sewn, first flown, when desperate miners 

fought for justice and human rights. Now it's claimed 

by Republicans, radical groups, and protestors 

on behalf of the environment or of minorities – 
on occasions when some of us choose to march
with shouts and placards, rather than stay
comfortably at the beach or the barbie. 

The original Eureka flag is a tattered remnant
saved in a museum. The design we fly in its memory

we also call The Southern Cross – the flag that tells me 

about myself: I am not so much rebel as revolutionary. 

(Hell, Ned Kelly would have used it if he'd had it! )

When we get the Republic, will they adopt it?

Probably not. Maybe it will stay the outlaw flag, 

just as Waltzing Matilda remains

the outlaw national anthem. Maybe that will do.

But I'd like a National Flag that says: 

We're for justice here, and human rights!

Written for Poets United's Midweek Motif ~ National Flag(s)