Revisiting some of the poetry from the Crocodile Prize is an interesting endeavour.

Just recently someone in the USA bought three copies of Diddie Kinamun Jackson's book of poetry, 'Daddy Two Shoes', which prompted me to go back and re-read her 2014 winning poem 'As a Writer'.

It's still an impressive piece of work.

AS A WRITER

i sat and wrote and wrote
into the moonlight
upon the cold hard rock
writing stories of the dream time
stories passed down
and so old like time itself
pondering hard into the dim firelight
straining my mind
just to write down everything
to preserve the story
as best i could
chipping the cold hard rocks
sweating into the cold chilly night
i gaze upon my scripts
hands bleeding
from chipping too hard
marvelling at the masterpiece created
i may be gone
but my story lives
upon this beautiful rock
that bore my hand
now i sit and write
translating the beautiful scripts
on the ever now famous cave
pen onto paper
i promise to write it down
as it is written
on the cold hard rock
i write into the night
under the low
electric light bulb
the passion builds stronger
as each drop of ink
touches paper
and the same old story
becomes anew
in each breaking dawn
i write and write
like my forefathers before me
my blood is the ink on my paper
it relates to my soul
and there is no end
to the words within
wanting to be heard
i write and write
hands getting tired
mind growing weary
not from exhaustion
but from every door
that closes in my face
i will not back down
it will not break my spirit
nor weary my soul
i will write and write
like those before me
write as much as i can
preserve as much as possible
someday when I’m gone
the world will come to realise
we deserve to be heard
for there is no country
without an identity
written in a very beautiful story
of how it is and
how it came to be
we deserve your attention.