I look at these kids having fun and running free, seeing their smiling faces without a care in the world, hoping they don't fall over and scrape their knee. But with a scared and frightened face, we look up the road at the dust building in the air. So we gather the children and say 'hurry, quick, run, run as fast as you can over there, near the trees in the gully you'll be safe for now, so please be silent'. Then this police car pulls up and we're hoping that the children will be quiet. Two police officers jump out of the car and one lonely black fulla following from behind. They call him the Tracker but I wonder how he can hunt his own kind. We stand frightened, answering questions about our Aboriginality and where we belong. All we think of is if they take our children and for how long. They send the Tracker off and I swear to you, without a lie, within five to ten minutes, I hear this awful and terrible cry. It's the children - two girls and one boy singing out aloud, and the Tracker dragging them with a tear, but without a sound. He throws them in the car and as the gungies [police] try to hold us back from our kids they think that their Aboriginality is what they lack. As they drive away, my heart breaks at the thought that my children have gone. But I know I will get them back one day. That's what my heart has sworn. I look back on that horrible day and all it brings is grief. But I will have my children one day because my heart has great spirit and belief. Be proud of who you are. 
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