Hot and windy

Hot and windy.
Really hot; the like of which
recorded history had previously
remained ignorant.
An apprehensive landscape
waiting fearfully for the ominous spark
that would create a devouring monster;
the dragon with many heads
sitting in triumph astride a parched terrain.
Ordinary women and men,
noting its rapid progress with alarm,
took arms of tank, pump and hose
attempting to defy the onslaught;
whilst communities, nestled
amidst once sweet and welcoming bush,
drank bitter draughts of grief
and tearful disbelief.
These things were never meant to be!
Those who ask difficult questions
shall be excused: Where can God be,
when hell has spilled beyond
its metaphorical gates to turn
rough eucalyptian beauty
into roaring flame and ash?
Where, indeed;
but perhaps
in the dirty faces and
weary, smoke-filled eyes?

© Ken Rookes

I wrote this in response to the “Black Saturday” fires in 2009. People might find it useful in the current circumstances.

 

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