Miri it is while sumer i-last

With foulës song;

Oc now neghëth windës blast

And weder strong.

Ei, ei, what this night is long,

And Ich with wel michel wrong

Sorwe and murne and fast.

Foulës in the frith,

The fishës in the flod,

And I mon waxë wod;

Much sorwe I walkë with

For beste of bon and blod.

Old poem - mediaeval or even older.

'Westron wynde, when wilt thou blow,

The small raine down can raine.

Cryst, if my love were in my armes

And I in my bedde again!'

Westron wynde, when wylt thow blow
The smalle rayne downe can rayne?
Cryst yf my love were in my armys
And I yn my bed agayne!

Quoted in The Lie of the Land

Bruno Martin? @TurbanMinor

Found on film: the last survivor of the final slave ship from Africa to the US https://www.independent.co.uk/news/long_reads/slave-redoshi-sally-smith-...

Her name was Redoshi. They took her from Africa, and probably forced her to become a child bride so she would fetch a higher price in the US as one half of a “breeding couple”.

The overseers beat her if she failed to understand English. She passed on the language of her African homeland to her children and grandchildren anyway.

Even as an old woman, she kept the memory of home alive, decorating her Alabama yard as they did in west Africa, keeping the old spiritual beliefs beneath her Christianity.

Through hazy years and memories faded, I see a glimmer of your smile,
how I wish I'd changed my plans and stayed with you a while,

will you be ok I asked, as we parted ways that day,
you told me not to worry, that all would be ok

I wish I'd held you longer, I wish there'd been a sign,
I wish I'd known as we said goodbye that this was the last time

last time I'd hear your voice, last time our eyes would meet,
the last time I'd feel whole again, the last time I'd be free

Free to laugh without constraint, that lightness now diminished,
the joy in every moment curbed, the day your story finished

Free from the torment of things unsaid, of leaving you behind,
of every way I hurt you, of wasting so much time

Time I took for granted, time I thought we had,
time to do all the crazy things that we'd always planned

Farewell, poor world, I must be gone.
Thou art no home, no rest to me.
I take my ship and travel on till I a better world do see.
Into the ocean, where there's rest, I go, I leave, I part with speed.
The way is long, the end is sweet.
Once more, poor world, farewell, indeed.
In leaving thee, the sea I meet.

"It's good for the soul to be responsible for something or someone. Like, when our Aboriginal boys have their initiation, they're circummsied and then given a stone - it's called a tjurunga - and on it is a special marking showing them what they need to look after in the Bush.  Could be a water-hole or a sacred cave, or maybe a plant or an animal. Whatever it is it is their responsibility to protect and care for it.

There used to be a human chain all the way across the Outback that had a responsibility to look after the necessitites. The system kept our tribes alive as they crossed the desert."

The Pearl Sister p357

Lucinda Riley

also:

“Remember that panic stifles your instincts and makes you blind.”

? Lucinda Riley, The Pearl Sister

and