Miranda’s Daily Blog: Day 87

“I hope you see you a beautiful bird soon and it makes your day!” That was the text message my friend wrote to me last night, when I was feeling a bit down. It’s true last time I was getting a bit frustrated about being up here, an owl came to visit and it made everything seem ok. Well, I guess I have to be honest with you and tell you that it can be a bit hard up here sometimes. For all the amazing beauty of the forest and the inspiration of fighting to the good fight and so on and so on… it’s still hard to keep my spirits up everyday. Yes, some days the isolation gets to me and the loneliness sets in. I didn’t think I’d get too lonely. Generally I’m quiet content to be on my own. My mum tells me that when I was little I often used to be quiet happy to go off and play on my own despite having lots of friends to play with. So, I guess this project suits my personality a bit, right? Plus who can get lonely these days with so much technology at my fingertips… phone calls, sms, facebook, email….  you’re never really alone anymore! So I thought I’d be fine with the isolation up here. But somehow it just gets to you, day in and day out hanging out alone. The odd phone call or email just doesn’t really make up for the face to face interaction with people that I’m used to. It doesn’t make up for coming home everyday to my house mate and best friend to tell her any and all of my day’s exciting or not-so-exciting news. It doesn’t make up for getting a hug from a friend when I really need it. Or being able to hug someone I love when they’re going through a sad time. Or the comfort of curling up in my lovers arms. Or having a stranger smile at me and smiling back. Or laughing with friends. Or even patting a cat! The days can be long up here, no interludes of idle chit chat with people over cups of tea or lunch. Only my own company day in day out. Now, I don’t mean to complain, because I know I have it pretty easy. And I think of Ali locked in a prison cell, separated from friends and family. I can’t imagine what a lonely place prison must be.

None-the-less, yesterday was one of those days when I struggled to keep my chin up, so to speak. There are people who I really miss. And sometimes talking on the phone only serves to make that gap feel even bigger! So, I was moping about feeling a little sorry for myself when I got that text message about seeing a beautiful bird. Yep, I thought, that is what I need. I hope the forest gives me a little gift to cheer me up!

I woke up this morning to a loud sound. Ark-Ark-Arrh, Ark-Ark-Arrh. Not quiet the beautiful bird I had been hoping for. A regular old crow! There it was hanging out on my tree’s branches calling out as loud as it possibly could, making a real ruckus for 6am, I can tell you. An hour later, yep, it’s still in my tree. I feel like it’s desperately trying to tell me something and just not ready to give up. He’s getting louder and more obnoxious… Ark-Arh-ARRHH! It makes me smile. Yep, it might not be an exotic, rare rainforest bird with a beautiful harmonic song, but this old crow managed to cheer me up just the same!  “Good morning Crow” I say. “Arggh” he says. “Do you have something to tell me?” “Arrr-Ark” Hmm… it’s hard to decipher the message. But I’m sure it must be one about staying positive, I’m doing good work, hang in there… something along those lines, what do you think?

Posted on March 10, 2012, in Daily Blog. Bookmark the permalink. 31 Comments.

  1. Arrk Arrk hmmm now that definitely sounds like a positive message from your friend! According to animal dreaming the crow is the sacred keepers of universal karmic law. She also asks that we seek the wisdom in our inner silence and to reflect on our actions and reactions in life. Basically, all the wisdom and knowledge you need is with in you to make the right decisions. I guess you have a lot of time for reflection while on your own up there! Am pleased to know that the crow cheered you up. Sending you a big cosmic hug 🙂

  2. Hang in there Miranda you are “not” alone; whether it be just an old crow with a strange message too hard to decipher or one of the many other birds whom share the treetops with you; there are those on the ground such as myself whom do not have the strength to climb the tree tops and join you, but follow your daily blog with enthusiasm.

    Your courage and esteem shines through to all those who follow your daily progress!
    Keep your chin up,
    Love and Best Wishes,
    Cath XX

  3. I’m thinking … it is a big question.

  4. I am so glad the old crow arrived darling, she was telling you WE ALL MISS YOU and are SO PROUD of YOU. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  5. We went to Tassie last year – 1st time for me at the age of 40, & 1st time for my little boy at the age of 3. It was also the 1st time either of us had read The Lorax – ironically! We loved it there, so so beautiful!! I admire your courage and resolve Miranda. Thank you for doing what you are doing for all of us that love Tasmania and it’s wilderness. My little boy’s favourite animal is the Tassie devil. He is also grateful for what you’re doing and all you’re sacrificing to be able to do it. Strength to you from Bendigo – Melissa & Eli.

  6. I think you have done an amazing, brave thing staying up there so long. You seem to have had wonderful media coverage at certain points. Thank you for being the keeper of the trees! It is a dramatic and elegant statement you are making.
    However I think you need to calculate whether the greatest impact of your action has now waned. Can you have more impact on the ground now – or is there enough justification for staying longer? I am not a strategist, so I don’t know how you would weigh that up. But at some point you’ll have to come down and tell your story from the ground. I hope you are making sure you are getting the most bang possible out of your sacrifice. May the timing of your return to the ground have the greatest possible positive impact. You’ll know when it is time.
    Warm regards,
    Jenni, Mullumbimby, near Byron Bay.

  7. I recall reading a blog years ago, whist researching bicycle touring. This man rode his bike from Malaysia, all through South-East Asia, up through China over the Himalayas and down into the foothills of India. He spoke of the loneliest time on this journey whilst passing through Bangkok in Thailand, one of the most populated and bustling places on Earth. Just feeling completely disconnected and lacking any sense of community. And for him, the most connected, free and alive was camped by himself hundreds of kilometers from anywhere on the Tibetan plateau crossing the Himalayas.

    Anyway, everyone is on their own solo journey, even though we do operate within communities and networks, ultimately we all carry some pain rooted in that deep illusion of separation we all experience. Separation from source, from the earth and from each other.

    Sometimes I close my eyes and imagine what it is like right now, where the sun is rising? (i just checked and the sun is now rising in Peru) What is the puma or the sloth experiencing whilst the sunlight pierces through the canopy… or that rare mountain bromeliad that no scientist has discovered, up in the misty cloud forest.

    And as the sunsets in south-east Asia… what is the Orangutan in Sumatra experiencing right now, having made its nest in the treetops, not altogether dissimilar to your situation in Tazzy right now…. settling in for another moonlit night up high above the realm of the Sumatran Tiger…. or Tazzy devil as it may be in your case

    Keep breathing sister…

    “Sitting quietly – Doing Nothing – Spring Comes – And the Grass Grows”

  8. John Considine

    just a big hug x

  9. Hi, just saying hello, and how much I appreciate what you are doing. I was just reading your blog about the crow, when at 6am up here a crow called out in my garden! I i am sure it said, stay positive, we are all proud of what you are doing! I also wanted to let you know that i loved the might shots uou have taken of the creatured sharing the forest with you. Keep safe, kindest regards from Jillian

  10. Actually the crow is a misnomer. It is the ‘Warrdong’ (the Australian Raven).

    Since its call is not melodic, most people don’t like them. It’s big, black and bold and so most people don’t like them like they do for instance a colourful Crimson Rosella. Superstitions have seen many a native animal persecuted.

    Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

    Some Aboriginal customs respect the Warrdong as special and sacred, as spiritual messengers from the Dreamtime. According to Nyoongar elder, Richard Wilkes, of SW West Australia, the Warrdong can lead people to safety if they’re lost. “We reckon they all carry the spirit of our ancestors.”

    The Warrdong is native and that’s all that matters.

  11. When you’re captive, you can free your mind in a good book.

    I recommend seeing if some friend can get you ‘The Moomins and the Great Flood’.
    While it is a children’s book, it has a strong underlying relationship with Nature and is beautifully written by Finnish author Tove Jansson in 1945.

    In a tower in the wilderness there lived a beautiful Princess.  She was a prisoner of the Red Queen of Promises and her Lady Handmaiden, who had great power throughout the region where our Princess had come to dwell.  The Lady Handmaiden had caused sorcerers to cast an evil spell over the forest and over all of its creatures who lived within it.  Every day the beautiful Princess looked out from her tower and wrote messages on fine cloth, which she threw to the four winds.  Imprisoned in her tower, she befriended the birds that would come to her through the forest.  These birds would catch her cloth messages and take them from that lonely place, leaving them where people would pick them up and read what she had written.  From time to time men and women from far off places would come after long journeys and walking into the thick forest, arrive thus, by great exertion, at the tower of imprisonment. 

    [To be continued…]

  13. Madeline Colam

    Miranda, what you are experiencing is quite understandable. You’ve been up in that tree for 87 days for goodness sake while off in the distance people are buzzing about their daily business, a glass of wine after work with friends, sitting down to dinner at night with family in comfort, watching tellie, or whatever, then to bed. But what you’re doing is far more important – it was a noble and courageous action in the beginning and you are still there which is simply bloody amazing. You are my “Tasmanian of the Year”, no question. I’m glad a bird joined you for such a long time and the fact that it wasn’t a pretty tweeter makes it even better because it’s saying that every little critter that seeks out that forest, however humble or ordinary, is special and worthy of protection. I think the “Arrr-Ark” means ‘thank you’. When you are feeling really low, try meditating – direct your mind to a quiet, peaceful place and just remember why you are there.

    Maddie xox

    • Madeline, your comment so beautifully put. One has to agree with every word!

      • Madeline Colam

        Thank you Jillian – I meant every word too. I worry about Miranda. I’ve never met her but when she took that “leap” it filled me with hope because here was a young woman of great intelligence who could probably achieve anything she set her mind to, directing her energy and passion to a cause to protect the forests and every creature (great or small) that call those forests home. No monetary gain. Very basic living conditions. I couldn’t have done it even at her age because she is made of better stuff than me and my goodness I admired her for it. That she continues to stay there, despite the deprivations, is extraordinary and her admission that she’s struggling would surely touch even the coldest heart. I wish we could do something to help, apart from offering words of encouragement. It would be tough going.

  14. [ …/continued ]
    To these visitors she would explain her plight.  How the Red Queen of Promises and her wicked handmaiden were jealous of the forest and of its wonderful creatures.  How the Queen’s subjects and Lady Handmaiden’s island folk had come to love the tree spirits and the creatures of the earth and sky more than they loved the Queen herself.  No one loved the wicked handmaiden, for how could they love a Lady who would cast such a spell upon their land?

    And an evil, dark jealous Lying Spell it was.  The more the people had come to love the Giant Folk of the forest, the tree spirits and the birds and creatures below, the more Lady Handmaiden had sent her goblins to destroy that which they all loved.  And destroy it they did, bit by bit.  The good folk of the land were saddened to see this happen.  Every day the forest Giants were pulled through the town in huge carts, on which they had been tied down with chains.  They were taken far to mills of monstrous despair and reduced to tiny pieces.  The good folk gathered and grumbled.  They signed petitions to the Queen, they stood outside the Lady Handmaiden’s balcony and called for an end to the ugly destruction.  So many folk were unhappy with the Lady’s work that the Red Queen had had to intervene.  She called her Lady Handmaiden to her and asked what she might do to stop the daily noises of complaints outside her palace, for it was tiresome to her.  She and her handmaiden wove a Lying Spell of Protection and hoped that it would trick the people back to sleep.  However, our beautiful Princess herself had come to the Palace to call upon the Red Queen.  The Princess had a message from the birds, from the creatures of the soil, from the tree spirits and from the Giant Folk.  However the gates were kept locked against her.  The Princess scaled the Palace Walls and from its roof called out to the Red Queen, but the guards turned her away.

  15. If the link works … here is “The Moomins and the Great Flood”, sorry I couldn’t make it into a nice hyperlink… and I don’t know if the link will transfer live within the comment, but, here goes…

    T M   G F by Tove Jansson∗
    File Format: PDF/Adobe Acrobat – Quick View
    his mother arrived at the deepest part of the great forest. It was completely … Moomins cannot stand the cold at all, so the house would have to be ready ….. everywhere were furniture and houses and big trees that the flood had carried with it.”

  16. Sorry that link with the funny letters didn’t work, but if you copy and paste it into a google search and press enter, then the first hit will have the same link, only it will be active and will open up Tove Jansson’s story. It does that for me, I hope it’ll work for you.

    Alternatively I can post the text of the story – it’s 10 pages.

  17. Keep on keeping on. Love your work.

  18. Hello Miranda
    Just got back from 3 days in the Tarkine doing carbon accounting. Lot’s of myrtle forest, sass and some celery. Watching people push their bodies to measure and record more data for the carbon science community is always special. But your tree sit is a reflection of why we do it. People science is working. Your tree sit is working. People are finding out how forests are falling for – NO GOOD REASON.
    I like Garry’s Moomin story I grew up on Moomins and am happy to say my 24 year old daughter is a Moomin fan as well. The stories tell us so much about family and what sustains us, nature and the ability to adapt to unexpected changes. . and yes you can see it on http://ricardo.ecn.wfu.edu/~cottrell/moomin.pdf
    I look forward to the day when you will be standing on Parliament Lawn and we will be celebrating the protection of all our HCV forests.

  19. […/Cont

    The Lying Spell of Protection was subtle and in proclamations the Lady promised those of the region that she and the Red Queen would protect the Giant Folk, the Tree spirits, the birds and creatures of the Forest.  She told how she was speaking with her Men of Experience, who would stop the troubles.  However at the same time she sent the goblins back to their creeping destruction and gave chests of gold to their Dark Lords.  The Men of Experience began tricks and stratagems and with wiles and true rumour of the goblins new work, caused fears of distant evils which would call the Princess to the Thick Forest.

    The Thick Forest lay in the heart of the land, in its deep recesses. There stood in that place a high mountain, with a rocky summit and an ancient tarn. From the flanks on the mountain three pure rivers emanated. They were called the Little River of Flowers, the River of the South and the Stream of Souls. There was much of mystery and magic in that land. There was the song of nature in the air, the gleam of summer, and sometime the force of storm. The three rivers carried the water which gave life to the valleys below. The Giant Folk from ancient times have stood in care as Guardians above teeming youngsters, of fabled beauty and in lineage tracing back to shapes upon the earth before first maps. First maps showed only the world from the times of the coming of people. Beneath and among these forest youngsters are shy creatures of the night, and hunters with sharp eyes. Creatures of types unknown in the other worlds of peoples, who existence was scarcely believed, when first-news was taken back to the world of men. Indeed much is beautiful in the Source Forest.]

  20. Laraine Acfield

    I hope Bob Brown is knocking on Julia Gillard and Tony Burke’s doors DAILY to remind them of your mammoth effort and the world wide support for stopping logging. I can’t wait to hear in parliament an announcement that the promise will be honoured. Yes if we all knock on their email doors!
    It is understandable that you are feeling these emotions. The birds are appreciative.

  21. Congratulations, Miranda, on having the staying power and conviction to stay in that wonderful but lonely place. A lot of people feel inspired by the simple humanity of your writings. You’ve been there almost three months – an awesome achievement that way exceeds reasonable expectations. Aaark. Aaark. Geoff

  22. All power to you Miranda:) There is a grim determination in sticking to it till the end. Which oinly those of us who have done it undersatnd- sometimes its a long long time coming. But- you are most definitely not alone!!! Since my recent trip to tassie, where i heard of your efforts and connected with the forest activists there, i have been telling everyone about what you are doing and how you are bringing us all hope- hope for the forests, hope for people power to make change happen, hope for the future, hope for my grandchildren, hope for LIFE! We hope you are getting the love and support you need, if not tell us! There are thousands and thousands of us supporting your work. Strength asnd love and solidarity from queesnsland X

  23. […/cont]

    So when word had come of the goblins’ renewed hateful labours, the Good Princess with faithful companions travelled to the Mountain Source. They vowed to defend their Giant friends. To this end they fashioned a high structure, which, when it was finished, the Princess ascended. One of the first to greet her was a pure white hawk, which surveyed her from its vantage point some short distance from the Tower. The White Hawk did not speak. The loyal companions had first given to the Tower the name “Tower of Protection Against Evil Spells” but as the year turned, and days and months went by, in conversation it began to be called the Tower of Imprisonment. It had neither walls nor windows, and yet once inside the tower, the Princess could not leave. She had become a prisoner of an invisible force known as Good Conscience. For how could she leave the Forest Spirits, the birds of the air and the creatures of the ground to the evils portended. And what of the gentle Tree Giants? They stood and gave sweetness to the air, shelter to the many and strength to all. Could she bear to abandon them to the goblins carts, the chains and the cutting teeth? This was as the Men of Experience had foreseen.

    Of the many companions in her isolation, Good Conscience who had neither shape nor form, would come to her in thought and would scold her and yet be her friend and offer support. Good Conscience was not an easy friend. She never visited if the Good Princess had company and it is probable that she herself had few friends. It is said that she disliked Quick Excuses, and even argued with her, and some say Miss Good Conscience was even suspicious of Public Promises, who most of the common people thought was a fine fellow.

    And so the Good Princess spent her days and nights in that tower in the Thick Forest. By day she wrote her messages on fine material and threw them to the four winds and her friends would take them, on the wing and drop them beyond the borders of that region. Pilgrims would come, at occasional times, with food and cheer for our Princess and then they would leave.

    Once, the Wicked Handmaiden, having seen one of the cloth messages, sent a terrible storm which rocked the Tower. Good Conscience begged the Good Princess as a duty-to-the-self, to come down, lest one of the Handmaiden’s lightning bolts find its mark. Just as quickly however, Public Promise countered that she’d given her word. Surprisingly, Quick Excuses turned up and supported Good Conscience, saying that she’d not be much use to the Giant Folk if she let one of the thunder bolts get her. Our Princess struggled, while Public Promise and Good Conscience fought it out at the Towertop. Fear was also there, circling, calling, jostling with Quick Excuses, trying to make himself heard. But the very noise of the storm itself was deafening and the Princess could hardly hear them fighting. The wind was so powerful that it caused her Tower to toss and sway and all around her it smote the forest with fury and the treetops bent this way and that around her. And yet, in spite of wanting to force her down from the Tower, the wind storm actually made the Princess hold on all the more determinedly to her position high in the Tower. So she did not give in.


  24. […/cont]

    And in a way it was a little like that ancient tale from a greek slave…

    “THE WIND and the Sun were disputing which was the stronger. Suddenly they saw a traveller coming down the road, and the Sun said:

    ‘I see a way to decide our dispute. Whichever of us can cause that traveller to take off his cloak shall be regarded as the stronger. You begin.’

    So the Sun retired behind a cloud, and the Wind began to blow as hard as it could upon the traveller. But the harder he blew the more closely did the traveller wrap his cloak round him, till at last the Wind had to give up in despair. Then the Sun came out and shone in all his glory upon the traveller, who soon found it too hot to walk with his cloak on.


    The storm tired, the bolts had not found their mark and a dawn came with mildness and love. The birds sang to her and the trees sent up a freshness to cheer her weary heart. Far friends sent the eagle to her. She saw a little spider and dreamed of many. She dreamt her worries: the common fears, that come even to Princesses. Of dangers, and of telling people and of not being able to be heard. Of needing help, and of faces turning from her, pleading lack of time – Quick Excuses got around pretty well, didn’t he? Awake, she saw the stars above her Tower, heard the creatures of the night, and received the messages the birds brought back, written on fine cloth, from many different lands…


  25. Garry Stannus


    Our Princess began to see that her messages were a tapestry, not just of cloth and thread, but of self discovery and words. Yet she could not see the whole, she was simply the instrument. What guided her hand she could not say, what would be the end result, she could not see. She sat in her Tower, meaning to write polemic and yet wrote pieces of great beauty. She wrote a piece with love … of her time in that place we know as the Little River of Flowers. Her friends flew that message to the far places on her earth. Many eyes glistened at the beauty and sadness of her tale. And kept it for second readings.

    Here is some of what she wrote:

    “Dear friends in the wide world: Once I dwelt in that place from which flows the Little River of Flowers. It was my Eden and there I found home, a belonging. A sense of place for me. In that special valley I would walk among my friends the Giant Folk. In that place it was as if time stood still, just as do those gentle giants. In one favoured place in that valley, there was a grove of trees that I loved to be among, entranced by their beauty of form, and lifted by the healing scents which they released into the forest. Their stems were exquisite, standing grey-white and from which extended slender branches which gently bowed towards the ground then to the sky as they grew outwards. Their skin was smooth and fragrant, and cool to the touch. I loved the sheen of their leaves, and would pick a few from time to time, in the manner of years gone by. With water from that Little River of Flowers, I would make an infusion, which I found quite a restorative, while at the same time, its aroma would transport me back to the peace of my grove of Pale Stems. Such is the magic of that valley.
    “I loved to see the way my Pale Stem friends twisted upwards there, around each other, and truly drooped with moss and lichens, which would speak to me of the deep folds of the earth as I climbed their limbs, to rest among their rich scented foliage. In winter snow, they opened creamy waxen flowers which grew on the underside of their leaves, eschewing the light of the sun, sheltering from the ice and snow. I hung suspended in the night from the high limbs of my dear gentle giants. And in the blackness of a clear nights I saw the stars as do all tree creatures. Between the waxing and the wanings, were memories of moon shadow at ground and glimpses across wide pale night-silver landscapes to the High Mountain, its rock summit clothed in vestal snow. I slept with the sound of rain’s lullaby caressing my awning, and watched wide-eyes the first snow, sent in magic contentment by the Sky Spirits. Its quieting night-time labour touching all, brought on breeze, filling steadily, transforming for first light and dressing my beautiful Little Valley of Flowers, the High Mountain and its companions, dressing the Giant Folk, the Forest Youngsters and the Plant Families further below, in the winter confetti of the Forest. And how in the morning we looked and stretched, and touched and fluttered among the whiteness. I loved my little valley of flowers and all who lived within it.
    “But then came a day of knowing. Such days carry a message in the morning air. A day grim with goblins and gendarmerie, of chains with cutting teeth. A day when my wonderful First Giant, home to me on many a night, patron of the Younger Folk, support for the creatures of the air, protector of those on the ground, one of the many tree spirits, my bastion, was felled.
    “I wrote onto fine cloth how it happened – while it happened. The brute noise of execution. Of the tree-scream as First Friend cracked and fell, his youngster friends standing with him, falling too. Pale Stems they were, who fell with him. I wept at their loss, at my loss.
    ‘By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion.
    We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof.
    For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.
    How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?
    If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.
    If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.’
    “Yet I didn’t feel crushed, like I had perhaps expected. I was not broken. I felt strong. First Friend had fallen, and was taken by goblin cart through the streets of the town, tied down with chains and taken far to those mills of despair. And that had hurt me but had not weakened my resolve to continue the fight to protect all my Forest Friends. Indeed I was all the stronger for having endured First Friend’s felling. In the years following I have remembered First Friend whose spirit was with me in the town, where Lady Handmaiden abides, at the castle of the Red Queen and in many other places in this land. First Friend is with me now … and so it is that I came to this Tower in the Wilderness, to protect the other Giant Folk of the forest, the youngsters, the tree spirits, the plant families, the birds and the creatures below. In doing so the evil spell cast over the land by the Lady Handmaiden has caused me to remain in this very Tower as I watch out for the Folk of the Forest. It is my Watchtower.”


  26. […/cont]

    Our good Princess remembered a special time, when the fight was carried to the castle of the Dark Lords, and how from a mountain fastness she and loyal fighters had descended, and how from the west, in cohort, they laid siege to the very ramparts of those engineers of forest destruction, how for few but brave hours they sealed every vent of that perfidious construction, how the Dark Lords had no goblin groups to contest the issue, till in overwhelming force a gendarmerie arrived and by one and one, the brave combatants were removed under arrest – one dear one who even until moment ago, yet remained within the walls of the Lady Handmaiden’s prison …

    مسالم علي

    And as this had happened, she had stood in the early morning, in the heart of the town, clothed in black, and she had spoken to the people’s messengers. As the enemies of the Giant Folk of the forest, of the tree spirits and of the birds and creatures below had weakened, as these Handmaids and willing goblins, and as the Men of Experience and as the Dark Lords had felt the very ground quaver beneath their limbs, she spoke. She talked of the time of broken ceasefire, and of agreement betrayed. She spoke for the Giant Folk, the Forests, the Tree Spirits and of the Birds and Creatures below. And it was as if she could be seen and heard throughout the land. For she had inscribed her messages onto fine cloth and had thrown them to the four winds…

    And now in her Watchtower, her Tower of Protection against Evil Spells, her Tower of Imprisonment, she recalled that special time. She recalled Ali,

    Salaam, Ali, of whom it was written:

    “In you we find our selves.
    Our humanity.
    Our vesper,
    Our evening air.
    Our refreshment.
    مسالم علي

    Our wonderful planet earth.
    Our rock revolving
    Our southern forests
    Our jewel Tasmania
    Our hope
    salaam Ali

    Forgive me
    I do not have your courage
    I am free
    and you in prison
    مسالم علي

    tell me Ali, my brother,
    how must I write?
    My eyes glisten, my fingers pause
    tell me Ali
    what I can say?
    علي مسالم

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