I'm sitting up the tree today and I'm not getting down
I don't feel safe at school no more just 'cos my skin is brown.

If I sit here overnight will I turn into a bird?
So I can fly away from here and all the nasty words.

'Cos it's no fun being different, where do I fit in?
Some kids at school are nasty and their words have such a sting.

You half caste dog you coon you boong you stinking bloody abo
I don't know what these words mean they stab me like an arrow.

I asked the teacher to explain she just slapped me hard
and then when it was lunchtime I was pushed over in the yard.

So now I'm sitting up the tree I'll hide from everyone
I don't understand this place I'm only in grade one.

I was born Yankunytjatjara my mother is Yankunytjatjara her mother was Yankunytjatjara my family is Yankunytjatjara

I have learnt many things from my family elders I have frown to recognise that life travels in circles my aboriginal culture has taught me that universal life is circular

When I was born I was not allowed to live with my family I grew up in the white mans world

We lived in a square house we picked fruit and vegetables from a neatly fenced square plot we kept animals in square paddocks we sat on square chairs and ate at a square table I slept in a square bed I looked at myself in a square mirror and did not know who I was

One day I met my mother I began to travel I visited places that I had been before but this time I sat down with family

We gathered closely together by big round campfires we ate bush tucker feasting on round ants and berries we ate the meat of animals that lived in round burrows we slept in circles around our fires we sat on the dirt on our land that belongs to a big round planet we watched the moon grow to a magnificent yellow circle

I have learnt two different ways I am thankful for this it is part of my life circle

My heart is round like a drum ready to echo the music of my family but the square within me remains the square hole stops me in my entirety

I cant stop drinking I tell you true
Since I watched my daughter perish
She burned to death inside the car
I lost what I most cherish
I saw the angels hold her
As I screamed with useless hope
I cant stop drinking I tell you true
Its the only way I cope.

I cant stop drinking I tell you true
Since I found my sister dead
She hung herself to stop the rapes
I found her in the shed
The rapist bastard still lives here
Unpunished in this town
I cant stop drinking I tell you true
Since I cut her down.

I cant stop drinking I tell you true
Since my mother passed away
They found her battered down the creek
I miss her more each day
My family blamed me for her death
Their words have made me wild
I cant stop drinking I tell you true
Cos I was just a child.

I cant stop drinking I tell you true
Since my bruz was stabbed to death
I cant forgive that stranger
Ive got anger on my breath
He was the baby in our family
Bit spoilt and full of jokes
I cant stop drinking I tell you true
Its the only way I cope.

So if you see someone like me
Whos drunk and loud and cursing
Dont judge too hard you never know
What sorrows we are nursing.

There is no life
but Family

When I am young
I live with my Family

When I grow up
I leave my Family

When I am lonely
I miss my Family

When I am drunk
I reverse charge my Family

When I pass away
I unite my Family

There is no life
but Family

See you I said to the children
as I memorised
their Anangu faces
filled with laughter
and trust for family
innocent in their youth
and strong in culture.

See you I said to the Elders
as the tears flow
in my heart
and I bend down
to shake their hands
and gain my strength
by skin.

See you I said at Titjikala
and the dust from my car
as I drove away
was like a ribbon
across the desert sand
tying me to the place
forever.

I went shopping with my white family
you can't come in without shoes said the security

I went shopping with my bush mob family
can we have a camera to aisle 4 said the security

I shared a meal with my white family
we said grace before we ate

I went hunting with my bush mob family
every bit of bush tucker was collected with grace

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This poem was written at Ruby Gorge, when I was missing the Titjikala kungkas. Always missing someone, somewhere.