jedah-rose morea

My Saltwater country

I feel the sun sink into my dark skin, not just warming me, but grounding me. It is as if the land places its hands on my shoulders, reminding me that I belong. The wind brushes past, gentle at first, then stronger, carrying the scent of saltwater. That ocean breeze, sharp and fresh, has always meant one thing to me. Home.

Most people think of the ocean as a place to visit. But for me, the sea is sacred. That salty air carries more than weather. It holds memories. It smells like childhood, like walking barefoot along the sand with my grandparents, learning truths no textbook could teach.

A lot of people assume being Indigenous is just background, something you mention on a form. But it is not like that. Being Indigenous is not just part of me. It is who I am. It lives in my skin, my voice, my spirit, and especially in my connection to Country.

I come from saltwater Country, Hervey Bay. Where the ocean meets the soul. The sea has always watched us, fed us, guided us. My Country holds our Dreaming. Our ancestors are in the waves. Our stories are written in the sand. Every rockpool, every shell, every ripple has meaning. It is not just nature. It is identity. It is survival.

When I walk along the beach at sunset, I feel something ancient stir inside me. The sand is soft, but it is strong. It has held thousands of years of footsteps. My people walked here. My ancestors stood where I stand now, watching the same sun set. They survived. They resisted. They taught. And now I walk in their footsteps. Proud. Strong. Grateful.