Talking to Indigenous people who were prominent in the campaign for a "yes" vote now feels like intruding into private grief. It feels like pestering bereaved people for their feelings shortly after a tragedy.
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Their decision to have a one-week moratorium on public comment is no doubt sensible - but it's not just about the politics of crafting a unified position: it's also about mourning.
The statement explaining the silence has the tone of a bereavement notice: "Now is not the time to dissect the reasons for this tragic outcome. This will be done in the weeks, years and decades to come. Now is the time for silence, to mourn and deeply consider the consequence of this outcome."
On Saturday night, with the rejection as sore as a new bruise, the Indigenous Chancellor of Canberra University, Professor Tom Calma, said in the ABC results studio: "We are sick and tired of it as Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people - of being the political football at the behest of what governments want to do and what they don't want to do in Indigenous affairs."
On Sunday, his burning, immediate anger at a hope betrayed seemed to have given way to the next stage of bereavement: that of quiet, brooding mourning. He was observing the silence. He offered no analysis of the result - that would come later.
But there was an immense sadness in his voice, a tone of regret. He was grieving for a lost hope.
As well he might. He has spent a lifetime working for the betterment of the lives of Indigenous Australians. He has served as the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Social Justice Commissioner and as Race Discrimination Commissioner at the Australian Human Rights Commission.
Indigenous leaders of the "yes" campaign had set great store on the "Australian Reconciliation Barometer" which tracks attitudes towards Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people.
It concluded last year: "Nearly all Australians want Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people to have a say in their own affairs - with a significant increase in support for a treaty.
"Mutual trust between First Nations people and other Australians is strong."
Some Indigenous leaders believe that Saturday's vote showed that this apparent level of trust and support was a mirage.
The "Statement from Indigenous Australians who Supported the Voice" sounds weary and dejected: "For more than six years, we have explained to our nation why the Voice was our great hope to achieve real change for our families and communities."
The statement thanks those who did support it, from the Prime Minister down: "You comprise many millions of Australians of love and goodwill. We know you wanted a better future for Australia, and to put the colonial past behind us by choosing belated recognition and justice."
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And it concludes in a tone which those who mourn will recognise: "To our people we say: do not shed tears. This rejection was never for others to issue. The truth is that rejection was always ours to determine. The truth is that we offered this recognition and it has been refused. We now know where we stand in this our own country. Always was. Always will be."
And then the familiar cry of the bereaved to move forward: "Regather our strength and resolve, and when we determine a new direction for justice and our rights, let us once again unite. Let us convene in due course to carefully consider our path forward."
Steve Evans
Steve Evans is a reporter on The Canberra Times. He's been a BBC correspondent in New York, London, Berlin and Seoul and the sole reporter/photographer/paper deliverer on The Glen Innes Examiner in country New South Wales. "All the jobs have been fascinating - and so it continues."
Steve Evans is a reporter on The Canberra Times. He's been a BBC correspondent in New York, London, Berlin and Seoul and the sole reporter/photographer/paper deliverer on The Glen Innes Examiner in country New South Wales. "All the jobs have been fascinating - and so it continues."
